Your Scent On My Fingers
by ilikecrystals
Summary: Follow up to Soft To The Touch, the boys' love is tested by a voice from the past. This story contains SLASH/Wincest. Please point out any errors or crap writing so I can fix. I love constructive criticism and reviews so bring 'em! :D
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Warning: Wincest/Slash! Pairing: Sam/Dean

Please point out any crap writing so I can fix. I love reviews, good and bad so bring 'em!

This takes place right after _**Soft To The Touch**_ with the boys still camping at the lake. I wanted to address any non-con issues that came up during the last chapter of **STTT** so that's why this story starts here. Don't worry, angst ensues very soon with lots more hot Wincest loving to come! :D

*

*

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you, Dean? I mean, you just got out of the damn hospital and I went and-"

"Dude! I'm ok…I'm OK! You ask me that again and I'm gonna have to kick your ass, Sammy! For the last time, I asked you to tie me up in that shower, hell, I even handed you the frigging rope and I practically begged you for the rough fuck! I can't believe you're still feeling guilty about it!"

"Not guilty about that part – just feel bad that I let my temper get the best of me and that I hit you so hard. You're ok, right – heart still feeling good and all?"

"Ok, that's it…one ass kicking coming up!"

They're in the tent, entwined together under the sleeping bag, the lantern flickering yellow-orange light around them, playing shadows on their skin and Dean's sitting up now, blanket falling away from his bare chest, twisting sideways to glare at Sam in annoyance, scowling thunder across the air.

Sam throws his hands up in surrender, "Ok, ok, I give. I'm glad I knocked you unconscious and fucked your brains out, ok? 'Scuse me for caring…"

With a growl, Dean rolls on top of Sam, wanting to shut him up and doing it the only way he knows how, by covering his mouth with a rough kiss, pushing open the soft lips and diving in to lick away his brother's fears with his hot tongue.

Giving a delicious moan, Sam's hands curl up around the back of his neck, sliding through his hair and urging him closer, humming softly in his throat as Dean's tongue finds his and dances around it, swirling and tangling until they're both trembling with desire.

Dean's exasperation melts away at the taste of Sam and he strains forward, needing to be deeper inside that mouth, the wet sweetness of it shutting down his brain and waking up his lower half, cock soft and tired but interested enough to twitch and lengthen against Sam's growing hardness.

They break apart, panting into the air between them, staring at each other with hot awareness and Dean raises himself up so he can look to where their hips are tight together and their dicks hard and heavy against each other and he glances up at Sam, a grin lighting his face.

"You ever seen anything hotter than that, Sam?"

And Sam's up on his elbows, face flushing as he eyes what caught Dean's attention and he bucks obscenely up into Dean's belly, leaving a hot trail of sticky wet on the skin and giving a seductive grin at his brother's sharp intake of breath. He reaches out a long arm to tug Dean back down, pulling him close so he can whisper in his ear, "The look on your face just before you come – that's the hottest thing I've ever seen…"

And Dean feels Sam's teeth nipping at his earlobe, licking in and around it, working a shiver up his spine as the hot breath stirs up the hair over the top of his ear and Sam's hands slide down over his back, sensuously circling around the hard muscles before going lower, lower until both of his ass cheeks are cupped, squeezed in Sam's long fingers. He's spread wide and Sam tickles along inside the crack, ghosting over his entrance and down, teasing his balls with feather touches until Dean starts to moan out his pleasure.

"Shit, w-what do I look like…I mean, why do you think it's- it's hot?" Dean asks, breathless from Sam's caress, spreading his legs so his knees can fall on either side of Sam's hips, giving his brother clear access and wantonly grinding himself down against Sam's dick.

Sam chuckles, rich warmth and honey rumbling out of his chest, and he's trying to keep his voice steady, firm but Dean's hips are distracting, the heat between them flicking up into his belly, and Sam's stuttering over the words, "Y-your eyes, they get this – it's like a fire blazing in them and you lock onto mine, not even blinking and you look so _hungry_, like you want to eat me alive. When you get close, your face gets flushed and you bite on your lips so they're all red and swollen and _fuck_ - just so goddamn _hot_ -

Sam's dimples appear so fast Dean can't catch a breath, caught up in how gorgeous, how stunning his brother is and Sam blushes a little at his own words, soft eyes studying Dean's face with such a look of love that he's humbled by it. He bucks his hips up against Sam's again, cock on cock and Sam's grin falters over a hot exhale, "Sweet Christ, man, you feel so fucking _good_…"

Sam trails off, trying to remember his train of thought and hurriedly spits it out before his dick takes over his brain again, "It's…sometimes I think I can come just from the look on your face…"

"Mmmm." Dean leans in for another kiss, pitching up hard against Sam and rocking back down again, getting a nice rhythm going and Sam's hands are pulling at Dean's ass, rubbing him close, setting the pace. Their breaths mix in the air, hitching and gasping as they grind on each other and when Dean sits up, the pressure changes, waxes and wanes and becomes something new, intense and alive. Smaller movements but so much sweeter, heavier but more exquisite, more perfect, the flames of pleasure licking into them and curling lower with every twitch, making every breath, every delicate tingle _more_, and the heat shudders through them fierce and swift. Each nudge, each forward push burns, sizzling through them as they hump into each other and Dean's staring down into Sam's eyes, a sudden need to push his brother over the edge consuming him-

He reaches back, stretching to roll his fingers over Sam's balls and down, sliding in between the ass cheeks to his brother's sweet hole and slipping inside, earning a whimper of pleasure from the writhing body beneath him and he starts thrusting into Sam's ass, stabbing deep, trying to find that spot, that delicious little place-

"Shit, Dean!" Sam jumps like his ass just got touched with live wires, his hands stumble and flail away, losing their grip on Dean's ass to smack onto the sleeping bag beneath them where they grip the cloth so tight the knuckles turn white and his forearms bulge with tension.

Bingo. Dean smiles and adds a second finger, digging in further, pressing down where he can give Sam the most delight.

Sam's trembling underneath him, his whole body alert, shivering and his hands grip and release convulsively, the sleeping bag being twisted into sweaty peaks, his breath rasping through his chest, throaty grunts cutting through the air, sweet noises that speak right to Dean's dick. Mmmm, Dean loves it when Sam gets like this – a quivering lump of desire that's aching for Dean's touch, straining for more, heart and mind focused only on Dean and he could pretty much do anything he wants to Sam right now and Sam would take it, eagerly, with love and passion because Sam's past the point of permission, of sane. His brother is a bundle of nerve endings right now, controlled by two fingers and Dean's weight on his cock and how fucking hot is that?

Dean watches Sam's face as he lets his other hand trail over his brother's hard chest, lightly circling around one nipple and the reaction is immediate, goose bumps rise up as his head thrashes side to side and Sam's face is twisted in a sensual grimace, lip caught between teeth and he's huffing out every breath, ribs racked with each deep pull in.

Hips are pressing and bucking under Dean's, smacking bone on bone, erections pulsing, pearly essence leaking out, smearing across skin and Sam's voice, a low growl as he shoves up again "Jesus, Dean, _fuck_, man, getting close…holy shit, your fingers…God, right there…right there…yeah, that feels so _nice_…"

Dean's getting close, too, the sounds coming out of Sam almost too much for him and the look of him, shit…Sam's right, watching his brother make his way towards orgasm is probably just about the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen.

Gasping around his own pleasure at the movement of Sam rolling underneath him, Dean brings the hand on Sam's chest up to his mouth, coating his palm with spit and reaches between them, wrapping around both of them, holding their dicks in a tight circle, he drags his hand up and down and ho, damn, that feels fucking incredible right there-

Sam's velvet soft skin almost inside his own, so tight, so close it's like they're one now, one mind, one heart and when he feels the throb of Sam's oncoming orgasm next to him, it touches something in his gut, deep and old, and he almost cries out with the beauty of it and shit, wouldn't Sam tease the fuck out of him if he knew that went through his mind right then?

His fingers are still buried deep in Sam's ass, still plunging in and out when Sam gives a hoarse shout, erupting over Dean's hand, the hot liquid like fire when it spatters on Dean's sensitive dick and he cries out, the scald of it yanking him upward, soaring towards the sky, reaching the precipice and trembling there, _so close, so close_ and two more quick pulls has him crashing down, over the side, grunting with pleasure, spasms rocking through him, shooting his load, adding it to Sam's. Dean strokes them both softly for another second before collapsing onto Sam's chest, burying his face in the sweet smell of neck and pulling in great huffs of air, trying to get his breathing under control.

A few minutes later, when coherent thought has returned enough for him to slide off Sam and they can speak without wheezing, Sam gives a chuckle, tightening his arm around Dean's shoulders and pulling him close.

Dean raises his head, "What?"

Sam smirks, "Now, that's one ass kicking I can live with…"

*

"So, what's the name of this place again?" Dean is relaxing in the passenger seat, flipping through the same cassettes, over and over, trying to find one that suits his fancy.

Sam's got the Impala humming at about seventy, the wind is whipping through their hair and the sun is bright, high in the sky as the miles roll under them.

"Shipbottom, New Jersey. It's a resort town on Long Beach Island, pretty much booked up at this time of year but Bobby has a friend who owes him a favor and he managed to score us a cottage five hundred yards from the beach, so you could 'get on the mend'. We have it for a week if we want it."

Bobby had called the day before to check on Dean's progress, relaying the offer of the beach house to them and urging them to go, get some rest and relax. They'd reluctantly packed up the pup tent, camping chairs and coolers that morning, the peace of the lake and the woods beckoning to them to stay longer, the heat of the day guaranteeing a scorcher coming and just to hang by the water all day, paddling in the cool lake sounded like heaven. Another steamy night of tent sex with each other in the flickering light of the lantern didn't sound so bad either. But, as Sam pointed out, they'd have a comfy bed in the cottage and lots of time to explore each other in all kinds of different ways. As he spoke, he'd caressed Dean's knee seductively, moving higher and higher up his thigh until he'd cupped the growing bulge in Dean's pants and Dean had panted his agreement, seeing the wisdom in Sam's words-

*

The cottage is small, quaint and freaking hot in the heat of the day, the air conditioners in the windows pathetically pumping as best they can but it's a lost cause, the muggy sea air coming in through the beams of the place. Three bedrooms, a living/dining room, kitchen and bathroom make up most of the place. The porch in the front is the entire width of the house and looks perfect for cooling off at night, lined with windows and plenty of comfy wicker furniture.

Dean hides a smile as Sam sets up his laptop and can't find internet access except at one corner of the dining room table, his brother chafing at the possibility of being cut-off, disconnected for more than a day, and it looks like he's starting to go into withdrawal already, hopefully pecking at the keyboard, shaking his head in disbelief when he's not getting any WiFi signal at all and wondering how the fuck people survive at the beach.

"Well, maybe they just go swimming, dude." Dean smirks at him and goes to change into his swimsuit, "I'm gonna go check out the ocean. Wanna come?"

Sam gives a dejected push at his computer, shoulders slumped, "May as well."

*

They find beach badges in a dish on the bureau, chairs in a bin outside and carry them out to the road, bitching at the rocks that line the driveway that cut into their city feet. Sam limps to the back porch, finding two sets of flip flops left from another family and brings them back out, both boys slipping them on in relief. The hot tarmac changes to equally steaming sand in a moment, just over a dune and there, the wide expanse, the roar of waves and the New Jersey shore is spread out before them in all its glory. The ocean smell, fish, wet sand, heat and salt wrap around them as they trudge to find a vacant spot near the water, setting up the chairs they've dragged up and sitting down, sand finding its way everywhere in a minute.

They're drinking Smirnoff's, hiding the labels from the lifeguard's gaze and tilting back one too many, the sun bringing color to their skin, the ocean air whetting their appetites, the heat of the day making the alcohol hit harder, buzzing their heads pleasantly.

It's hot and Dean's skin is starting to burn, he can feel it so he digs in the bag they brought, coming out with a bottle of sunscreen and starts rubbing it on his chest, feeling Sam's eyes watching him and deliberately slowing the movements so they're more sensual, letting his fingers run over his nipples and down his stomach, smoothing lotion across his abdomen and lower, over the soft hairs under his belly button, dipping under the waistband of his suit-

He sneaks a glance at Sam and his brother's mouth is hanging open, watching Dean rub himself and when Sam catches his gaze, he closes his mouth with a snap and looks away, muttering, "Fucking tease…"

"Hey." He tosses the bottle to Sam, who catches it one handed, "Do my back, would you?" and moves down on his knees in front of his brother's chair.

With a huff of annoyance, Sam pours sunscreen in his hand and smooths it over Dean's shoulders, sliding over his reddened skin slowly, rubbing the lotion in with small tight circles over the taut muscles of back and down and _mmm, feels so good_-

Sam rubs into the shoulder blades and down, over the ribs and waist, and onto the small arch above Dean's ass. He sweeps his fingers in a wide arc, gradually pushing down Dean's shorts and sliding under, caressing the firm cheeks of his brother's tight ass, slipping one fingertip in between to touch the puckered entrance, tickling feather-light-

Dean gasps in a breath and pulls away, grabbing a towel from the back of his chair and covering up the sudden hard-on he's sporting, "Holy shit, Sam, there's children here…what the fuck, man?"

Sam smiles playfully at him, "Hey, you started this and I was just keeping it going. But now-"

"Now what?"

Sam leans forward, breathing heavily into Dean's ear, "Well, now, I think you're right, I think I just overstepped and I need to have someone put me in my place, show me who's in charge…"

He stands up, stretching his back and gives a slow cheeky grin, starting to walk away and glancing back once, to where Dean is frozen to the spot at the images Sam just put in his head and raises an eyebrow at his brother, "Interested?"

Dean almost breaks a leg scrambling to his feet.

*

Dean muscles Sam up against the refrigerator, running hands over the hot skin of his chest, pinning him there with his own body and taking his mouth roughly, pushing lips apart and thrusting in with his tongue, tasting the vodka and mixer Sam just drank and underneath, the freaking _taste_ of his brother, that sweetness uniquely Sam. It's that honey flavor that makes Dean dizzy, shooting sparks of desire through his belly and making him want more, making him want to dive into Sam as deep as possible until he can find the source of that delicious taste.

He moans on the tang of it on Sam's tongue, locking his mouth in place, plunging in deeper, one hand going to the back of Sam's head and holding him there, not letting him breathe or pull away until Dean's finished his exploration. When he finally does break the kiss, they're both gasping in deep breaths of hot arousal and Sam's cheeks are flushed, his eyes half-lidded with lust, his mouth swollen from Dean's kiss-

_Jesus, he's fucking gorgeous- _

Dean's hands go to Sam's shorts, yanking them over his hips with one rough pull and impatiently pushing them down his thighs and they drop to the floor at Sam's feet.

"Kick 'em off." Dean mutters, his palm already reaching out to grip Sam's shaft tight, pulling up and down and Sam's trying to do as Dean asks but his hips are already jerking forward, responding to the hot tug of his brother's hand.

Dean captures Sam's mouth again, swallowing down the sweet moans he's making, and pushing on through, swirling his tongue around Sam's, opening him up, _can't get close enough_, and Sam lets him in, body trembling with passion, wide open and vulnerable.

He's all Dean's, there for the taking, and Sam's surrender turns Dean wild with lust and he's breaking the kiss, sucking down over Sam's throat, biting and bruising as he makes his way over the hot skin, Sam throwing back his head to give him clear access and Christ, that almost sends Dean over the edge right there-

"Need you now, Sam, right the fuck now…" and he's pulling Sam forward, spinning him around and pushing him towards the dining room. Sam trips over the swim trunks still at his feet, stumbling forwards and Dean catches him, pulling him up tight against his chest and growling into his ear, "Hmmm, I told you to kick those off. Shit, making bad choices and now disobeying an order-"

"I'm sorry, I got carried away and-"

Dean shakes his head, lips pursed, "Tsk, tsk, tsk…you really do need to learn a lesson, don't you?"

And he reaches around, running his hands up and over Sam's nipples, lightly flicking them to hardness before circling around slowly, continuing until Sam is swaying towards him, arching up to deepen the touch. He pinches the hard nubs, gradually increasing pressure until Sam is gasping with the throb of it and then tickling with a feather touch across them, earning a hot moan.

"You like that, Sammy? You like it when I pinch you…when I mark you?" And he nips at Sam's neck, scoring the skin with his teeth and licking over it with a hot tongue.

"God, _yes!_" Sam's panting against him, eyes closed, straining towards Dean's touch, "_Need_ it, Dean-need more-"

Dean rolls his palms down, over the sculptured abs and below, Sam's belly quivering in anticipation at the caress, fluttering over jutting hip bones, trailing them down to rock hard thighs. Dean pulls back, working his fingers around Sam's hips and over the swell of his ass, squeezing and pulling the cheeks apart, marveling at how perfect Sam fits into his hands.

Dean gives his brother a small push forward, "God, you have such a nice ass, Sam…so fucking tight and perfect. Bend over the table and spread your legs-"

Sam belatedly kicks off his shorts before he leans forward, gripping the table on either side with his hands and doing as Dean says. Dean stares down in wonder, barely able to breathe over the lump in his throat, over the throb of arousal that just shot through him at the sight he's looking at right now, his brother, bent before him, trusting and waiting, asking to be taken, giving Dean control-

The anticipation must be getting to Sam because he squirms over the table, his erection rubbing against it and Dean hears the desperation in his voice as he gasps out, "Dean, please, man…"

"Not yet." And at Sam's disappointed moan, he firms his jaw, his voice steel, unbending, "No, Sam…gotta get you ready, man. You're gonna have to wait 'til I say."

And he drops to his knees, hands pulling Sam's ass cheeks apart and spreading him wide, leaning forward to circle around Sam's sweet hole with his tongue, licking around the quivering skin before darting inside, tongue firm and thrusting, hearing Sam's gasp of pleasure right before his knees buckle.

_God, he tastes so fucking good-_

Dean pushes him close to the table so he doesn't fall down, keeping his tongue buried deep, swirling around, poking and jabbing until Sam is babbling, pleading with his brother, "Jesus, Dean, _Jesus Christ_, you need to…please, Dean, please, need you…need…"

He shoves in a finger and then another, wetting them with his tongue as they slide inside Sam, his brother arching his back up and pushing back against him now, wiggling his hips to get Dean to thrust in harder and Dean can't take much more-

Dean scrambles to his feet, spitting into his hand and rubbing it quickly over his dick, because he can't wait any fucking longer-

He positions himself behind Sam, nudging himself in, hands spreading Sam wider, pulling him open and he suddenly thrusts deep, before Sam realizes he's gonna and he's halfway buried in Sam's ass before his brother's muscles lock down.

"Holy fuck, Dean!" Sam's head is thrown back and he's rasping out great whoops of air, trying to breathe through it, trying to relax, body tense, rigid and Dean is running his hands over the soft skin, massaging gently until he feels Sam give and open. He pulls back slightly, giving himself a running start and shoves in again, hard. Sam's grunt of pain stirs up a ravenous hunger in his heart, a feral need that's deep and basic, making Dean feel fierce, almost savage and he jerks back on his hips, withdrawing from the tightness surrounding him before ramming in again, even harder this time, going further, deeper.

Sam tightens his grip on the table and spreads his legs wider, urging Dean on, voice hoarse with need, "Do it, Dean…come on, man, _please_…need you fucking filling me up-"

Dean is grunting harsh sounds from deep in his chest, a wild beast in heat, fingers digging into Sam's hips so hard he's bruising the skin and he pulls out, slamming back in, again and again until he's buried up to the hilt, the hot tight channel of Sam's ass gripping him, _so good, so fucking sweet_-

He's sweating from exertion, dripping down onto Sam's back and he leans forward, gritting into Sam's ear, "Who's in charge, Sammy?" and he pulls out, shoves in again, making sure to hit up against Sam's prostate, making Sam jump nearly out of his skin.

"Shit-" Sam's huffing out, trying to speak, "Y-you are…"

"Say it again-" another jab over Sam's sweet spot and then another, his brother's hips jerking into the table, and Sam is tossing his head over the arch that shoots up his back-

Dean reaches around, finding Sam's cock and dragging the skin up and down, jerking him off roughly, fierce and hot, each pull matching Dean's stabbing thrust from behind and Dean's growling into Sam's neck, "Answer me! Who's in control here?"

"You are, Dean, you are! _Jesus Christ_, I'm gonna-" and with a shout, Sam's coming, body rigid, spasms rocking through him as he shoots his seed out all over the table cloth and the floor, whimpering as the aftershocks flick and jerk into him and he's twitching against Dean's cock, still buried in him-

The clenching of Sam's ass on his dick has Dean seeing stars and he mindlessly starts pounding in, relentless, wheezing out hard grunts in time to his thrusting, working his way to his own brain-blowing orgasm, huffing into Sam's back as he shoves in, "Fuck, Sam, you're so goddamn tight, _shit_, feels so good, love being inside you, so hot…so _fucking_ hot-"

Two more frantic hip jerks and he's peaking, shuddering through as he erupts, spurting deep inside Sam's warmth, waves of it shivering through him as he empties himself into the deep cavern, the sweet heat of his brother caressing and tugging until he's finished, exhausted and he collapses down onto Sam's back, dizzy and panting.

When they've both recovered, he pulls out of Sam, kissing him on his soft skin and helping him to stand, turning him around so they can look at each other and Sam is glowing, eyes shining and smiling wide, love pulsing out of him, enveloping Dean in its warmth and he drops to his knees in front of Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist and hugging him tight.

"Thanks, man, just…thanks."

Dean nods, hugging Sam back, holding him close and petting him, letting Sam know that he understands and he's got him, got his back and he'll take control whenever Sam needs him to.

They rest together, content and satisfied until Sam's knees start protesting and Dean hauls him up, snickering and making 'old man' comments before dragging his brother into the shower and washing them both clean.

A quick trip back up to the beach to gather up their things and they're back down at the cottage, starving and foraging for something to eat. Frozen pizza in the freezer and a bottle of lemon rum in the cupboard sate them for the time being and they wander out to the porch, the sun setting and the air starting to cool. They find a box full of board games and Sam takes great pleasure in beating Dean's ass in Scrabble while Dean whips Sam in Chutes and Ladders. Soon, they're both yawning and stumbling and they lock up the cottage for the night, collapsing into bed, finding each other in the dark and curling their limbs around, needing the calming touch of the other to relax enough to sleep.

*

Sam's phone rings, jarring them both to wakefulness, Dean groaning and smacking at Sam's head to get the fuck up and answer it, shut it up before it wakes the neighbors. Sam fumbles for it, can't find the damn thing and when Dean throws it at him, he can't get his sleep-clumsy fingers to work right and finally, finally snags it and opens it, slapping it to his ear with more vengeance than necessary, making himself wince at the blow.

"Yeah?" His annoyance apparent in his voice, he listens and sighs, "Yeah, this is Sam Winchester. Who the hell's this?"

Another silence and Dean hears the change in Sam's voice, the shock of surprise, the underlying unease and the nervous tremor that shakes through Sam's words, "Sure I remember you. How-how did you get this number?"

Sam's tone has Dean sitting up straight and turning on the light, staring at his brother's face, trying to read what's going on.

Sam listens to the voice on the other end, muttering "Oh. Yeah, we still stay in touch. I felt bad after Jess died, him being the only kid the parents had left and all so I call him every once in a while just to check in, make sure he's doing ok. I-I'm really surprised to hear from you, I mean, it's been almost five years-uh, how, uh, have you been?"

Buzzing over the line as Sam listens and then, "You sure it's a-? Yeah, I know it's your specialty but that's a little far-fetched to think that you may have seen a real-ok, ok…don't get yourself all worked up, huh? For the time being, let's assume you're not hallucinating buckets of crazy and you've actually seen the real thing…why call me? What do you want from me?"

Silence again, and when Sam speaks, he's tense, worried, staring wide-eyed at Dean's face and shaking his head when Dean mouths, "What the fuck?"

"How do you know that? I never told anyone about that…wait, how do you know Sarah? Your grad student, huh? She told you I'd be able to help? Shit, I don't know…Alright, alright, calm down, it's ok. I'll come, ok? Don't worry. Yeah, I'll be there. Tomorrow afternoon's the soonest I can manage it, ok? Yeah, I'll see you then."

Sam hangs up and stares down at the phone in his hand, rubbing it nervously with his thumb.

"Sammy? Want to let me in on it?"

His eyes flick up to Dean's and down again but what Dean sees there makes his heart trip-hammer in his chest and he can't catch a decent breath in because of the cold hand of fear that touches the back of his neck. Sam can't speak, can only shake his head at Dean and look away, out into the distance, looking for all the world like he's lost in memories, none of them good and he can't shake them away.

"Sam? You're scaring me." Dean whispers.

Sam slants a look back at him, his eyes filled with unshed tears, his mouth working uncontrollably, "Dean-"

"Sam, what the Christ _is_ it?" Dean's heart is jumping now with frantic worry, sure the worst thing in the world just befell them and not knowing is freaking killing him because he can't fight what he can't see, what he doesn't know and shit, Sam just needs to tell him what the fuck, right now!

"I-Shit, Dean. I never planned on telling anybody about this, ever."

"You can tell me anything, Sam, you know that."

Sam nods but the look on his face tells Dean he'd rather swallow glass than have to reveal this to him and Dean plasters a look of acceptance on his face, determined not to be an asshole but to really try to give Sam the right response right now – the one that tells Sam he can trust Dean with whatever it is.

Sam takes a deep breath in, steeling himself with a roll of his shoulders but still not able to look at Dean full on when he spits it out, "Ok, when I was at Stanford, I had a…uh…relationship with my Mythology and Folklore professor and um…we broke up…not nicely and it was awkward and uncomfortable for a long time…until I met Jess and she helped me get over it."

"Ah…and that was her on the phone, your professor?"

Sam looks at him then, locking his eyes on Deans and nods, saying distinctly, "That was _him_ on the phone."

*


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks, Isaac for your help on the Greek mythology. You are a gem, my friend and as payment, Jace is now James and for anyone interested, he's around 34 years old.

*

*

Dean rocks back like he just got slapped in the face. He shakes his head, sure he heard Sam wrong, sure that his brother's gonna laugh and say "Gotcha!" and they'll have a good chuckle about it and he waits, holding his breath but Sam just stares at him, eyes huge, watchful, studying Dean like he's a bomb that's going to explode at any second.

Holy shit, Sam's fucking serious and this is real, it's -

_Jesus_, all this time, he'd thought he'd been Sam's first…just like Sam had been his…he didn't know that Sam had been with another…

"A _man_ professor? You had an affair in college with a _guy_? What the hell, Sam? I thought you'd never-"

Dean trails away and he tries again, feeling ridiculously hurt, "Holy shit, I thought I was the only-"

The words are gone again and he blinks back sudden tears, pain slicing through him as the fucking truth of it hits him deep and raw, ripping him, leaving him gasping with it, his heart twisting, breaking and he's cold, shivering, barely able to catch his breath. He motions weakly in the air with a hand and it falls back into his lap, fist clenching and unclenching as he feels the stirring in his belly, something hot and black and huge-

It's jealousy, flaring into boiling rage quicker than he can blink. He opens his mouth and shuts it fast, not sure what he wants to say but cutting it off before the awful, venomous hurt spills out of him and he growls out words that will slice Sam wide open and damage them for good. He can't let himself speak, can barely think right now because the betrayal he feels, dealt from Sam's hand is too much to bear, too hard and sharp and he turns to slide off the bed, to get away, tries to stand but can't, his legs won't work so here he sits, breathing in great whoops of air and staring a hole into the floor, lost in the hurt of it.

"Dean. DEAN." Sam's on his knees in front of him, grip on his shoulder like iron, hurting and digging in, "Look at me!"

Dean shakes his head, not able, can only stare at the floor between them, and there's a quaking inside his gut, hot and heavy, trembling, rolling as the gash in his heart tears wider, making him weak as a kitten and Sam's sure done this one up right, managed to break him in places Hell never could and _well done, Sam, good job_.

There's a buzzing in his head, building in volume, so loud now he can't hear anything else and it surrounds him, protects him from the sharp hurt of _here, now_ and he barely feels the hot hands grip his face, forcing his head up. Sam is there, crouched in front of him, talking to him but he's blocking him out now, _heard everything you had to say, Sam, don't wanna hear no more, _he tries to pull away but Sam won't let go, holding him there fierce, making Dean look at him.

He wants to stay in this safe place and Sam won't fucking let him!

Dean's voice is guttural, "Get off me, you son of a _bitch_!" and he pushes at the hands on him, managing to turn his face away.

Sam holds on tight, "No, Dean! No!"

He's wrestling Dean, fighting to keep him there, to make him listen but Dean's had enough, he knows his limit and he's reached it, if he doesn't get out now, he's gonna pummel Sam unconscious because he wants to hit something so fucking _bad,_ make something bleed for this because this…just isn't fair, God damn it! Not now! Not the fuck now, not after all they've been through to get them here!

Strength flows back in him and he's up on his feet, shoving at Sam, knocking him on his ass and Dean would've stopped to laugh at the look on Sam's face if he hadn't been so close to fucking crying and he's searching the floor for pants, swearing when he can't find any and dragging out the duffle bag, yanking on jeans and t-shirt-

Sam is up and grabbing for him, hands reaching out to stop him and Dean snarls at him, smacking his hand away with a hard fist and suddenly, he's outside, on the beach, with no recollection of how he got there, gasping and wuffling in the cool night air, the roar of the ocean surf matching his roiling insides.

One foot in front of the other, _keep going, just keep going, can't think, can't think right now_, just hurts, hurts too damn much and fucking _Sam_-

Sam's not his, not anymore, he's _used_, belongs to someone else and how the fuck is he supposed to deal with this? It's unreasonable, selfish of him to have expected Sam to save himself but damn it all to hell, he'd _led_ Dean to believe…

He thinks back to the first time, in the tent, when he had taken Sam, buried himself deep inside of his brother, finally letting Sam see, letting Sam know how much Dean loved and shit, it _seemed _like it was brand new, like Sam had never…

That's the real crux of it right there. Sam lied to him, _lied_, right to his fucking face and now he's questioning every emotion, every word they'd spoken, every look of passion, of desire on Sam's face because it wasn't real, none of it, it was all a freaking act!

Son of a bitch had lied to him!

The one person he trusted above all others just cut him down, right at the fucking knees and now he's staggering under the weight of it and he can't help it, the fucking voice in his head is needling at him, twisting it's jagged edge into his gut, whispering-

_Sammy, was he a better lover than me? Did he make you whimper and moan like I do, did he lick you, taste you all over like I do? _And the last, the worst, _Did you love him more than me?_

His shoulders slumped and head down, Dean trudges on down the beach, kicking up the sand behind him, the moon following him worriedly, casting trembling shadows down onto him, lighting his way.

_Did you love him more than me, Sam?_

Suddenly, he's down in the sand, tripped up by something wrapped around his feet and he glares back behind him, sees the fishing poles he's just yanked off their perches, their lines twisted around his ankles.

"Hey, there!" a voice shouts at him and he's trying to untangle himself, pulling at the cords wrapped around him and hands are helping, a burly man kneeling next to him, the owner of the fishing poles, "Ought to be watching where you're going. Bunch of us fish at night so keep your eyes open. There you go."

Dean's voice is husky with unshed tears, "Sorry…sorry."

And the man puts out a hand, helping him to his feet, "No worries - not the first time, won't be the last neither, so no harm done. Have a good night." And he expertly begins untangling the lines, resetting the poles and goes back up to his chair and his cooler, giving him a wave as Dean turns back up the beach, going back the way he came.

One hundred feet down the beach and the kindness of the man hits Dean hard, making his lower lip tremble and without warning, without any fanfare, a fat tear rolls down his cheek and _shit_, he's so fucking stupid, so fucking weak!

Another wet drop slides down his face and he lets out the breath he's been holding, putting his head down and letting it out, the black lump that's lodged in his chest feeding the flood, and it helps to let it out, because the rock hard of it loosens, lessens and he's finally able to take in a deep breath, swiping at his eyes with a sleeve and wiping away the snot dripping from his nose. He pounds his fist onto a knee-

_Goddamn! Just fucking goddamn!_

*

Sam finds him sitting in the driveway, in the parked Impala, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, eyes staring straight ahead at something only Dean can see. The passenger door is unlocked and Dean hears it open, hears Sam settle in next to him but can't look at him, can't stand to see the brother who betrayed him. His eyes are red and swollen and the tears are still close but for the moment, he's under control, the hurt inside of him simmering just under the surface, pushed down for right now and he's cold, so cold and dead inside.

They sit in heavy silence, the muffled rhythm of the surf outside rolling under them, trying to soothe and the sounds of their breathing mingle together, broken only by nervous movement, the slide of jeans on leather seats, sweaty hands wiping off on denim-clad thighs, shuffling bare feet on gravel-covered floor mats, the hard click of a swallow-

The silence is deafening.

Sam clears his throat, stuttering over the words, his voice cracked and breaking with the strain, "It was–it was when I first went to college, the first two months I was there, that's where it all started. I was scared and alone and I was fucking missing you so much but I couldn't go back to you, wouldn't go back because Dad – remember he told me not to come back, ever? So there I was, without you for the first time in my whole life and James…" Sam stumbles over the name, "James Carter…he just…reminded me of you, you know? He looked like you, sounded like you and he _cared_, took the time to _see_ me and realize that I wasn't doing too good. We would go out for coffee after class and talk - we talked a lot actually and it took him a while to let me know he was gay, that he was interested. At first, it freaked me out and I told him I wasn't gay and stayed away from him but I saw him in class, two times a week and he would just stare at me longingly, so sad for me, it seemed and I felt like he really wanted to help me, really cared about me. Never pushed himself at me but I always knew the offer was there-"

Sam takes a deep breath, his voice low, hoarse, "One night, I was watching the news in the Student Commons and I saw a story about a dog that was attacking kids in the neighborhood but the funny thing was, no one had ever seen the dog or heard the dog – it would just appear, attack and vanish. It seemed like something that you and I would have investigated and I almost called you up about it, wanting so much to hunt with you again because I fucking _missed_ you. It was like a hole opened up in me the day I left and stayed there, chewing at me and I couldn't stop missing you."

Sam closes his eyes against the memory, "I called James instead, ended up going to his house and staying overnight with him."

Dean makes a noise in his throat, a gagging, choked sound that has Sam quickly jumping in to explain, "He was so much like you, Dean and I needed to be with you that night, needed it so _fucking_ much and he was all I had-"

The harshness of his own voice surprises Dean, the words ripping out of his gut, cutting into the air, "You could have had _me_, Sam. All you had to do was pick up the fucking phone and I would've met you anywhere you said, been anywhere you needed me to be." His voice drops to a whisper and he's biting his lip to hold back the words but they come out anyway, almost a sob "Why'd you have to go _fuck_ him, Sammy?"

Sam's grip on his arm is instant, vicious and biting, and Dean cries out at the sudden pain.

"Look at me!" Dean's eyes jerk up to his brother's face and Sam's angry, livid, more pissed off than Dean's ever seen him but it's not directed at Dean, not shooting daggers at him but instead, Sam's ripping himself up inside, and doing a good job of it if Dean's any judge. He knows Sam's guilt-ridden eyes and he's staring right into them now, the self loathing and pain making them glitter with intensity and Sam's snarling out words.

"You listen to me because I want you to understand this if you don't get anything else. I did _not_ fuck him, Dean! Never, I never...you were my first, Dean, the only person I ever let do that to me…the only person I ever did that with. I only wanted _you_ that way, man, I only loved _you_ that way and you need to know that right now! So, don't you EVER –", Sam stops because he's almost shouting now and takes in a deep breath, continuing on in a calmer tone, "Don't think that again, man. It was always you..."

They stare at each other, air sizzling between them, tense and heavy as they assess each other and Sam doesn't blink, doesn't waver but instead firms his jaw and is right there, letting Dean search him for truth. Finally, Dean gives an imperceptible nod and the cloud over them lifts, dissipates and only then does Sam release his arm, Dean's skin already stinging with bruises he knows will be there by morning.

Sam begins again in earnest, trying to get through it fast so he can finish this, "You need to know it all now, no more surprises and no more secrets. That night, we did it through our clothes and I was so freaked out by the fact that I'd been with another man that I didn't go to class for a couple of days. He showed up at my dorm room, wanting to know if I was ok and well, long story short, talked me into trying it again. And I did and it wasn't as scary the second time. So, we'd do that and he'd sometimes give me blow jobs but that was as far as it went. I-I never kissed him, Dean, not once. You were the only one I wanted to-"

Sam closes his eyes, swallows hard and forces himself to continue, "One night, I was feeling guilty that he'd been doing all the work and I tried going down on him and…it was bad, really bad…"

Sam trails off, lost in the memory of that night, his eyes gazing into nothing.

"What-what happened?" Dean's voice is old, rusty.

Sam catches himself, pulls himself back to now and shrugs, simple and easy, "He wasn't you."

Dean narrows his eyes at him, "Tell me."

Sam takes a deep breath in, "I was on my knees, had him in my hand, ready and I- shit, I couldn't open my mouth, I tried to, really tried but I couldn't. He wasn't you and he'd _never_ be you and that's when I realized just how bad it was with me, how I felt about you. I stood up, apologizing over and over again and tried to get out of there with as much dignity as I could but he wouldn't let me go without an explanation. He started asking questions and cornered me into admitting the truth, that I loved you and only wanted to be with you. He was a little freaked out by the fact that it was my _brother_ I had the hots for but even more, he realized I used him as a substitute, knew that's all he would ever be to me, so he stopped it right there, told me to go home, that we couldn't see each other anymore and that was that. I still saw him in class but…he was gone from me, guess I really hurt him but I couldn't lie about it –"

Sam's eyes flicker to Dean's and then away, finding a spot over Dean's head, like he's scared to meet his brother's eyes "It crushed me when he left because then, I didn't even have a poor substitute for you anymore…I didn't have anyone…until Jess. Looking back, I know I loved her eventually but I think I latched onto her so quickly because I was just so fucking lonely."

The silence stretches over them, Sam tense and waiting for Dean's reaction and Dean wants to put Sam at ease, help him out but he's gotta be honest, too and he's not ready to give an answer right now because his thoughts are jumbled, strung out and he's not sure how he feels at the moment because the hurt and anger are still there inside him and he's got to deal with that.

Dean says carefully, "I know you want me to say it's all okay but I can't, not now."

Sam nods, eyes filling with tears as he swallows convulsively, and his gaze hits on Dean's and moves right off again, "Ok. When…uh…when you decide, you'll…uh-"

"Of course I'll tell you, Sam. In the meantime, why don't we concentrate on doing our jobs, huh? Tell me about the case because I heard you on the phone and I know this guy didn't just call you up to rehash good times."

*

James Carter loved Mythology and Folklore, no, he was _obsessed_ with it, finding others who shared his passion through the internet and he spent much of his spare time on his website, creating a place where buyers and sellers of artifacts could come together and barter, verify authenticity and credentials or just communicate and garner information. His particular love was of the Greek Gods and he had spent the past five years hunting for a very private, very exclusive collection, finally tracking it down, finagling and trading his way into owning some of it and once he had it in hand, he'd driven up into the woods, to his old summer camp, where he'd put it all into his cast-iron floor safe, a beast of a thing that could withstand pretty much any damage mother nature, or thieves, could wrought on it.

A week ago, he'd settled down to gloat over his achievement, to lovingly unpack each piece, labeling and marking, sealing and securing, taking his time with it, cataloging the items one by one, a feather from Eros's wing, dried and stiff, a lock of hair from Anteros, brittle and thin, a strand of gut from the bow of Himeros, frayed at the ends and unbendable but still whole, in one piece, a vine said to have belonged to Pothos, brown and weathered, but solid, still firm and the last, the most prized possession…a pipe from the flute rumored to have belonged to the God Pan himself.

It was while he was running his hand slowly, sensuously over the single hollow reed of the panpipe that he'd seen a flash of movement, a blink out of the corner of his eye and then, the sound of hooves clicking on the stone floor and the soft tones of music, fluttering through the air-

*

Dean frowns, narrowing his eyes as he searches through his memory, "Wait, wasn't Pan some sort of reindeer or something?"

"A Greek God, half goat, if I'm remembering my mythology right but I'll need to do some research on it to be sure."

Scoffing with disbelief, Dean snorts, "You sure he didn't see Cupid flying around, too? Sammy, come on!"

Sam gave a half-hearted shrug, "Cupid's Roman, not Greek. Eros is the Greek's version of Cupid and hey, man, I'm just telling you what he said. I'm pretty sure he knows how crazy it sounds which is why he called me, probably thought we'd be the only ones who'd believe him. You remember Sarah, that girl from the auction house?"

"The one you had the hots for?" Dean's voice is low, gruff.

Sam's eyes flick to his and away and he looks down, rubbing a hand on his thigh awkwardly, "Yeah, her. She's friends with James's grad student and she gave them my name, thinking we may be able to help, find out what's really going on."

Dean gives a big sigh, "So I guess we're going to Connecticut, huh?"

"Keane Valley, actually – when he called me, he was still up at his summer camp. We drove near it on our way here, it's part of the Adirondack Mountains, supposed to be beautiful up there, all hiking trails and waterfalls. It should only take us about seven or eight hours to get there."

"We should probably try to get a couple more hours sleep before we head out."

Sam looks like he wants to say something but the words catch in his throat and he's biting on his bottom lip, nodding silently before dropping his head down, letting his long hair conceal him from Dean's watchful gaze.

*

They file into the bedroom, quiet and awkward with each other, neither one wanting to meet the other's eyes and Dean strips off his shirt, moves to unbutton his jeans and stops, darting a quick look at Sam before dropping his hands and crawling under the blanket, pants still on. Sam watches Dean sadly, stands for a moment, head bowed and shoulders slumped before shutting off the light, yanking his own t-shirt over his head and dropping it, climbing into the bed on the other side and laying back. Both men hold themselves stiff, an invisible line drawn between them, not daring to move, balancing on their respective edges, barely breathing.

Dean's heart is pounding out a rhythm in his chest, he's intensely aware of Sam's every breath, every twitch and he doesn't want this between them, this hurt, this unease and even though he's grateful that Sam is still his, he's eaten up with jealousy because that asshole's _mouth_ had been on Sam, his hands had touched _his_ Sammy and Dean just wants to rip him apart, piece by bloody piece, until there's nothing left.

Yeah, that'd go over real big with his brother.

How in hell is Dean supposed to act, especially when Sam revealed everything to the jerk, is he supposed to just act like Sam's brother or will this guy pick up on the fact that they're more than that now? And, what if this dude tries to put the moves on Sam – how the fuck is he supposed to handle that? Dean swears if the guy so much as _twitches_ around Sam, makes any kind of move to touch, he's gonna start losing body parts because Dean knows he won't be able to control this ugliness, this hate rolling up inside him. And Sam's just gonna have to deal.

Sammy…shit, if Dean's this scared, this messed up, he can only imagine what Sam must be feeling right now.

Dean pulls in a deep breath and rolls over, finding Sam's chest with his searching hand, earning a sharp inhale as his fingers brush across Sam's nipple and he rolls his palm across ribs, tugging and urging Sam closer.

A small whimper reaches his ears, the thick hurt of it making Dean's eyes sting with sudden tears and he feels Sam reach out, slipping his arms around and yanking Dean forward to hug him tight, burying his face in Dean's shoulder and Sam stoic resolve breaks and he's shaking into Dean's skin, sobbing into his neck-

"I'm suh…suh…sorry…" Sam's hitching in breath, trying to talk, "Don't want you to ha-hate me, Dean, please don't, don't hate me, man-"

"Sshh, Sammy, I don't, never could, ok?" His hands hold Sam close, petting his hair, "Just, just hurting, that's all but it'll be ok. We've been through worse than this before and we'll make it out of this one, too, you'll see."

Dean feels Sam nod, feels the lips against his skin, the whispered mutter, "Love you…couldn't take it if you weren't with me, _need_ you, Dean…love you so much."

Dean's hands go to Sam's face, pulling him back, away and staring into his huge, soft eyes, fingers caressing Sam's cheeks, wiping at the tears and he leans forward, lips sweeping across that sweet mouth-

Sam's eager, responsive, opening up, letting Dean in but Dean moves more slowly, tentative, unsure, sliding his tongue up against Sam's, soft and easy and Sam doesn't move, doesn't breathe, letting Dean lead where they'll go from here.

He curls his tongue around Sam's, twisting and slipping over it, tasting the delicious flavors in Sam's mouth, the honey tang of it working its way into Dean's brain, flickering through his belly and he pushes closer, opens Sam wider so he can go deep. His hands tighten around Sam's face and his kiss turns rough, hungry and Sam's right there, meeting him on his own terms, giving him payment for the hurt he's suffered-

Dean breaks the kiss and stares at Sam, eyes hot, the lights in them glowing with lust, with desire but he can't, he just can't-

His voice is rough with the lump clogging up his throat, "Sammy, just…I want to but I can't-"

"Dean, let _me - _please...let me show you how much I-" and Sam is moving down, kneeing Dean's thighs apart and taking up position there, hands going to his brother's jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping and he waits for permission, for Dean to allow because it's Dean that's been wronged.

He reaches down, caresses Sam's hair, letting his fingers trail down the familiar face and God, he loves Sam so much and he can't refuse him this, can't _not_ let Sam try to make it better, to make it right.

He nods, urging Sam forward and his brother closes his eyes, pulling in a deep breath before looking back up at Dean, love shining out of him, "Thank you. Thank you."

And his hands are tugging down Dean's jeans, pulling them off, underwear following and hot hands are on Dean's hips, sliding up and down on his skin, slowly, sensuously, feathering over hip bones and across Dean's lower abdomen, making his skin twitch and roll under Sam's fingers, the sudden flush of heat that rocks through him has him closing his eyes and throwing back his head, moaning over a low growl in his throat.

Sam kisses and licks his way up one thigh and across, just under his belly button, his chin bumping against the tip of Dean's rapidly hardening dick, earning a grunt of pleasure as he nips down the other thigh and hovers, letting Dean wait, tickling over the length of him with his long bangs and Dean's hips buck up towards Sam's mouth, eager for more.

He feels Sam's hand wraps around the base of him, tight heat that works him up from bottom to top, dragging the skin, creating nice, warm friction and Sam's tongue follows, circling the tip and dipping, sliding along the slit and down, then back up to circle again and Dean's making low noises, breath stuttering in his chest and holy fuck, that feels good-

"Sammy, Sammy, God, that's-" The words are cut off with a cry as Sam plunges down, open-mouthed and takes in Dean's whole length, and the hard throb that shoots through Dean's cock at the hot wet engulfing him has him fisting the blankets, biting his lips, the fire in his belly surging up and his eyes pop open, staring down and Sam's eyes are locked on Dean's as he moves his head, lips dragging obscenely slow over Dean's shaft, the tongue inside flicking and dancing along the underside as Dean's thigh muscles tighten, quaking with tension-

Sam lets Dean's cock slide almost out, holding the head of it and sucking hard before opening up, diving back down, moaning in his throat like Dean's the best thing he's ever tasted-

Two more times of that slow, sizzling pull up and down and Dean's ready to explode, body trembling everywhere, nerves on high alert, pinging and slashing and Dean's back is arched, blanket twisted into sweaty balls inside his fists and Sam's taking him higher and higher, that wonderful tongue, that incredibly sensual, erotic fucking tongue that has Dean teetering as it flicks and swirls around him, playing with him, _bringing_ him-

With a whimper, Dean's reaching out, raking his fingers through Sam's hair and gripping tight, moving Sam's mouth faster, bucking his dick up into that sweet, wet hole and _Jesus_, can't get enough of that hot surrounding him, that fire that's licking at his brain, his gut, faster, fucking into Sam's mouth as hard as he can now and he feels Sam relax and let him, Sam's hands moving up his belly to his chest, fingers rolling gently over his already stimulated skin, over the stiff nipples and that's it-

"Fuck, Sam, I'm-" and over the edge, over the rainbow, exploding and pulsing into Sam's waiting mouth, wave after wave and Sam's sucking him down, swallowing every drop until Dean's done, falling into the pillows, heart pounding, covered in sweat and gasping for breath. Behind closed eyes, he feels Sam licking him clean and then moving up next to him, kissing his shoulder, his cheek, an arm across his chest hugging tight.

When he gets his breath back, he opens his eyes, lets them slide over to Sam's, seeing the love there, the gratitude that Dean let him touch, let him love-

He feels Sam's erection against his leg, Sam's achingly hard but won't ask for Dean's touch, Dean knows he won't because in Sam's mind, he hasn't paid Dean enough yet, hasn't suffered enough yet to make up for this awful pain between them-

So Dean takes care of Sam, in his own way, the only way Sam will let him.

"Sammy-" Dean's voice is hoarse to his own ears, "Touch yourself for me."

Sam looks at him, puzzled but there's a glint of interest in his dark eyes, "Dean-"

"Please, Sam…I want to watch you…make yourself come for me…"

"Come on, man, I don't deserve-"

"Now, Sam." Dean commands, his voice broking no argument and Sam unconsciously responds to it, standing up to shed his clothes, dropping them onto the floor until he's standing naked and gorgeous in front of Dean. With a satisfied smile, Dean scoots backwards, leaning back against the headboard, putting his hands behind his head, and crossing his feet, ready for the show.

"Where do you-?"

"Right here." And he pats his belly, "Sit on me, on my lap, so that I can feel you when you come…want to see everything as it hits you, want to _feel_ it-"

Sam does as he asks, swinging a leg over and sitting on top of Dean's thighs, his cock snug against Dean's balls and when Dean takes his hand, bringing it to his lips to lick a sensous path over the palm, Sam watches with lust-filled eyes, almost drooling at him and there's an answering twitch in his erection that's jumping against Dean's shaft, the movement curling passion through Dean's stomach like a hot snake. Dean lays the wet hand on the base of Sam's dick and smiles into his brother's eyes coaxingly, "Come on, Sammy…"

And Sam moves his hand, slow at first, leisurely stroking up and down, uncomfortable under Dean's intense gaze but soon, losing himself in his own touch, letting his head fall back and his eyes close, mouth parting to exhale gasping breaths as he jerks up and down, faster and faster, thumb running over the head of his dick with each upward pull.

Dean can't believe how stunning, how freaking _beautiful_ his brother is right now, the flush on his cheeks, face pulled into a pain-pleasure grimace, panting out his need into the air between them and just watching Sam's hand move up and down, Sam's cock getting redder and more swollen with each yank up, his hips jerking and thrusting is enough to make Dean's dick sit up and take notice. The _feel_ of Sam against his own dick, fucking _amazing_, with how his hips are rolling and grinding and Dean's own erection is sudden, swift and his hand wraps around himself, jerking roughly, dragging the skin up and down as he watches his brother glide closer and closer to the edge.

Shit, Sam's close now and Dean's almost there, too, the sounds coming out of Sam, _holy shit_, the whimpers and moans working out of his chest, almost Dean's undoing, too much for him and he watches Sam snap his wrist, rhythm stuttering, irregular as he's teetering on the ledge and Christ, could this get any fucking hotter?

Dean reaches out a hand to flick Sam's nipples, his other hand flying over his dick, faster, faster and shit, right there, right _there_-

And Dean erupts, the image of Sam, his hand working himself, so hot, so fucking steamy burned into his brain forever-

He hears a wheeze groan out of Sam right after and he jerks his eyes open, watching as orgasm hits his brother hard, seeing the seed pump out of him, over his brother's hand as Sam bites his lower lip, whispering, "Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_"

And he's still pulling, almost done, milking the last few drops out of himself before he falls forward, catching himself on the headboard and dripping sweat onto Dean's chest.

It's a full minute before Dean can even think about speaking and then, all he can manage is, "_Holy shit_, Sammy, that was fucking awesome!"

And Sam is too tired to do anything but agree. He collapses onto the bed and Dean reaches out, pulling him close, hanging onto him for dear life.

"Sammy, just so you understand, if this guy tries to touch you, he's gonna be junkless sooner than he can say Pan's flute."

Sam smiles faintly, nodding and hugging in tighter, needing to be as close to his big brother as he possibly can, "I love you, Jerk."

And Dean's arms tighten as Sam falls asleep, resting his head on Dean's heart and Dean whispers brokenly, "Love you back, bitch."

*


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I wrote this so fast, it felt like I was on roller coaster, just came pouring out of me from I don't know where. Please, if you see any typos or stupid writing, tell me as I am my own beta and rely on the kindness of others to catch the crap and find the roses :)**

*

*

Sitting outside of a tiny cabin nestled in a grove of trees, he'd convinced Dean to let him go inside alone, citing unfinished business and Dean's temper as the main reasons for his request. Dean would only agree to one half hour and after that, he was coming in, whether Sam liked it or not.

"Dean, come _on_-"

"Clock's ticking, Sammy…better hurry up."

*

"Hello, Sam." The tall man who answered the door hasn't changed, not in the least and in spite of himself, Sam feels his heart thumping loud in his chest and he stands, awkward and clumsy, hands shoved deep into pockets, like a guilty kid caught watching porn and he can't stop staring…

Still too handsome to be a college professor, his face has more lines on it than it did five years ago but the sparkling blue eyes are the same, fringed with lashes too long to be masculine and a shit-eating grin that _still_ reminds him of Dean, damn it. His blond hair is longer now, flowing easy over his forehead and he runs fingers through it, smoothing it back out of his eyes whenever it flops forward, his cheekbones gaunt, cut with a sharp knife and his lips are so _pretty_, almost as sexy as Dean's but not quite-

Sam's voice is breathless, whispery, "James."

The man in front of him steps back, opening the door wider and sweeps towards the inside with a hand, "You look good, really good. Come on in."

Sam nods and steps over the threshold, his brain in overdrive, _what in fuck am I even doing here_, and he glances around the kitchen, small, close quarters but clean and orderly, just the way James likes and the tea kettle starts whistling on the stove, James trying to slide by but Sam's big, in the way and hands settle on his arms to move him to the side and Sam jumps, nerves on red alert, scooting away like he just got burned.

James shuts off the fire under the pot and stands for a moment, looking down at the stove. He takes a deep breath and turns, gives Sam a sad grin and shrugs, "I remembered you liked tea so thought I'd make some to help you feel at ease, relax you a little but I can see now it's not going to be enough." He moves to a cupboard, taking out a bottle, "Maybe whiskey would help?"

"Whiskey would help a lot." Sam nods, looking at the bottle longingly, wishing he could drown himself in it and be gone from here.

"Earl Grey was your guilty pleasure, right?" James pulls out a box and holds it up for Sam's approval, putting a bag in a heavy mug and adding a generous splash of Jim Beam before topping it with steamy water. He puts the cup on the table and gestures towards a chair, "Sit, sit."

Sam sits, wrapping his icy fingers around the cup, warming them, inhaling the smell of the steeping tea, shit, it's been a long time since he had tea, since he was this sophisticated, the Stanford college student, a lifetime ago and he feels the knife in his boot shift, the pick set in his back pocket snug against his ass cheek and knows with swift finality he can never go back to this world, this life.

At least the tea smells good. He sips at it, burns his tongue a little but it's nice, sliding down his throat and easing the tightness in his belly, warmth curling through and around him, giving him courage. He looks up at James, who's studying him intently, _God, still so handsome_, and takes a deep breath, not wanting to talk about _that_ time, needing to keep his mind on the case, "Why don't you tell me what's been going on?"

"Right to business, huh?" James gives a slow grin, "Look, Sam, there's no hard feelings, ok? I've dealt with it and you and I are good. I gotta say, though, you grew up and filled out since I saw you last." And he gestures to Sam's arms, "Those biceps alone are enough to make a person's mouth water."

At Sam's quick blush and incoherent stammer, James laughs out loud, "Ok, I'm sorry, just couldn't resist. I'll keep it professional from now on, promise."

James pours himself a mug of whiskey tea, sitting across from Sam and starts talking and Sam plasters an encouraging look on his face, nodding as he listens, "Well, I told you what happened when I opened the package and started cataloging the items. I was holding Pan's pipe in my hand and the wind picked up, started blowing through the cabin, papers were flying around and I heard the hooves behind me, clicking on the stone floor – it had to be in front of the fireplace because all the other floors are wood and I know the sound of stone, it's distinct, hollow. I turned around and I saw a shadow, hovering there and then I heard the flute-"

James trails off and takes a healthy swig of tea before standing up, moving to the counter, retrieving the whiskey bottle and upending it, chugging down the amber liquid for a few seconds, coughing and choking on it as it goes down burning and he's back, across from Sam like it's nothing, like it's normal. Sam raises an eyebrow but James only shrugs, nonchalantly taking a sip of tea before continuing, "The flute kept playing and the shadow was moving, swaying and I felt…well…the only word to describe it is damn _horny_, more turned on than I've ever been in my life and as the music played, I got hot and sweaty, started touching myself and, uh, eventually ended up jerking off on my living room floor, watching the shadow dance to the music. As soon as I, uh, had an orgasm, the playing stopped, the shadow disappeared and it was like I imagined the whole thing."

Sam realizes he isn't breathing, not at all with the image James just put in his head and he pants a little, trying to get himself cool, casual, "Huh. That's different."

James gives him this sardonic look like he just spoke the biggest understatement in the world and pushes a hand through his shock of hair, shoving it back from his face, "You think? Anyway, I crammed it back in the safe and haven't taken it out since."

Sam drains his tea and stands, chair screeching across the floor, "Well, as much as I don't want to do this, you'd better show me what we're dealing with here."

*

The safe is mammoth, huge, an old bank safe with the huge handle and dial, cast iron and freaking heavy and James spins the combination expertly, tugging on the lever and swinging open the large door. He reaches in and scoops up a packet, turning to hand it to Sam, almost pushing it at him to get it out of his own hands.

"It's supposed to be an authentic pipe, the only one in existence now."

Sam whistles, "And how in hell did you get this?"

James shrugs and the lights in his eyes flare, _the devil's in those eyes_, Sam thinks, and he's given an impish grin, the other man licking his lips in amusement, "Some things are better left unknown, Sam and there are sides of me I'd rather you didn't see."

The sudden heat in his belly confuses him, worries him and Sam unwraps the packet, holding the bamboo pipe carefully in his hand, running a forefinger along it gingerly, reverently. He knows how precious, how rare and he doesn't want this in his hands, doesn't want the responsibility of it and he moves to put it back, to wrap it up and get it back into the safe.

James's words stop him, "So, where's your brother?"

The change in subject matter has Sam narrowing his eyes at the other man, his chin giving a jerk sideways because it wasn't an odd question, not at all but it was asked at an odd time and Sam's gotta wonder –

He puts the pipe in the safe and then he hears them, hooves, clacking and ticking over stone, _James is right, it is stone_, and he snaps his head towards the fireplace, a black shape passing over the stones and the music comes, so soft he barely hears it, almost a feeling instead of a sound, reaching his ear, sweet, tender, working under his skin, into his brain, lovely, so _pretty_, that music, tickling into him, soothing and arousing at the same time-

Sam's voice is a hushed whisper, "He's coming. Dean's coming."

James steps up close, too close, looming into Sam's space, making him step back and step back again, until he's rucked up against the fireplace and there's nowhere else for him to go, the shadow moving over them now, dancing and writhing as the music gets louder, more intense, frantic-

James leans in and Sam can feel the heat pouring off the man in front of him, vibrating, shimmering until it's all over Sam, through him and it's so hot, so fucking hot in here, Sam's face is flushed, over-heated and he can't breathe, can't get a breath in to save his life and he's pulling at his collar, trying to unbutton, to loosen because it's too tight around him-

The flute, God, it's singing through his veins now, surging inside him, lighting up every nerve, every hair follicle, alert, aroused, fucking hot as hell and his cock is throbbing in his pants, bringing it up front and center in his mind, all he can think of and damn it, he needs Dean, right the fuck _now_-

James voice is in his ear, sensuous, like smooth honey, "Did you ever tell your brother how you felt about him? I remember, after you told me, I was so _fucking_ jealous of him, did I ever tell you that, Sam? He held your heart and all I got was the leftovers and he should have known that, should have had the right to know how much you loved him, how much you needed him. I couldn't understand why you never let me touch you like I wanted to, like I needed to-"

He feels the lips touch him, tracing the vein along his neck and shoulder, hot trail laid and moving down, and Sam jerks back, can't think, can't function because _Jesus_, he needs Dean so bad, needs him inside, filling him up, taking away his control and Dean will keep him safe, stop him from wanting this, from needing this-

This man in front of him, so much like Dean but not, and the memories flare up inside him, James, laying on top of him, bucking his hips against Sam's, hot breath panting in his face as the rhythm increased, the smell of him, _not Dean, not Dean_ but all Sam had. Sam had just wanted to scream against the longing inside him, the need for his brother, couldn't ever have it and it kept him broken, kept him empty so Sam took the dregs and made himself satisfied with that because Dean was too high, out of reach for him-

And now James was right here again, right now, so hard and firm and thrusting up against him and Dean was absent, gone, where the fuck _was_ Dean anyway?

"What are you-what're you doing?" Sam is helpless against that music, his lust washing over him, too damn fucking much and he can't stop it, God, he _wants-_he wants so fucking _bad_-

A hot palm slides over the bulge in his pants, rubbing, grasping, making his hips jerk and buck and _Holy Christ_, that feels fucking awesome.

And he breaks, dick leading the game now, grabbing James's shoulders hard and yanking him forward, rucking his hips up against the other man's, sliding down to grab the firm ass, pulling it forward, grinding it in-

"I need you to kiss me, Sam, kiss me like you never would, like you want to kiss _him_-" James is panting, lost in the passionate arousal and Sam moves to do just that, mouth at the ready but the voice in his head slides on through, integrating itself in the brain cells, _Not Dean, not Dean_…

And using what little strength he has left, he turns his face away, "NO!" pulling in deep huffs of cleansing air, the music working him, playing insanely in his brain and he can't take it, can't take much more of this-

His hands are moving of their own accord, even as he's struggling to stop them, reaching out, unbuttoning and unzipping James's pants, diving in and yanking out a stiff cock, red and throbbing, the smell of it assaults Sam's nose and it's pure sex, skin and fucking dick, the scent of it eating away at Sam's brain, tickling his senses until he's hungry for it, consumed with it-

The flute plays incessantly, insanely, won't stop until he goddamn fucks something and Jesus Christ, he can't take this, can't take much more of this and he tightens his fist around James's cock, working it, pulling up and down wildly, with abandon and he can't help himself, needs the warmth of flesh on him somewhere and he yanks at it, dragging up and down the shaft until James is jerking, writhing underneath him.

Sam is snarling out words, his voice isn't his own, the words not his but someone else's, someone wild and out of control, "Like that, man? You like me fucking jacking you off…wanna come, is that what you want? Yeah, you don't even care that you're not _him_, all you fucking care about is getting off…you smell like fucking dick, man…all hot sweat and come and –"

Sam is yanking, fast as a piston, and James is hanging onto his shoulders, fingers digging in, jerking and twitching and then finally, coming in long streams, shooting onto Sam's hand and leg, collapsing back and trying to keep balance and suddenly-

Dean's there-

His hand on Sam's chest, shoving him back, getting between them, and fuck, the look on his face_, betrayed, betrayed_ and Sam couldn't control himself, God damn it! Couldn't fucking do anything but what the flute told him to do and Dean has James down, jumping on him and hitting him fast and hard, the sounds of flesh thudding against flesh, harsh grunts coming out of the fallen man and Dean's fists are bloody, dripping and Sam lunges, dragging Dean off.

He stands between them, wrapping his big arms around his brother's thrumming angry body and holds him there, glancing back to see that James is down, holding a hand to his bleeding nose, staring up at Sam in confusion, not knowing quite what happened but sees his dick lolling, flaccid and he reaches down with the other hand, stuffing himself in his pants as best he can and Dean is shoving against Sam, trying to get past, get to James but Sam muscles him back, using every ounce of strength to push and shove Dean out the door, onto the porch and towards the car.

Sam is still lost, feverish, his dick hard as stone in his pants, the sounds of that fucking flute playing in his head, lilting notes that twist at his balls, jerk in his belly and make him steamy, on fire with lust and he's grabbing at Dean now, trying to kiss, to love but Dean's shoving him away in disgust and Sam's heart splits wide open, can't deal, can't deal with that right now, have to deal with this, the freaking cock in his pants, on fire, just on fucking fire now and he can't wait, can't stop this and he sinks to his knees in the driveway, hoping to Christ no one sees and rips open his pants, shoves them down and starts jerking off, right on the gravel path, hand leaning on the Impala-

So fucking hot, he can't stand it and Dean's pulling at him, trying to get him to stand, to get him the hell out of here but Sam can't, not until he's done and Dean's just gonna have to wait his fucking turn because this here, this fucking volcano in his pants needs some attention and it's not gonna wait any longer-

Pulling and dragging, he can barely control his breathing and Dean watches, blood dripping from sliced open knuckles and Sam glances up, locking his eyes on Dean and behind the disgust, behind the hate is raw passion, pure and simple and Dean's getting off on this, on watching him and Sam only wishes they had more time but he's outta time, he's gonna blow so goddamn soon-

Three more quick pulls and he's exploding, spurting, hot liquid boiling over and scalding his hand and he keeps jerking, keeps it going until he's empty, spent and he collapses against the car, breathing heavy, trying to get in air but it's hard, his lungs don't want to work and suddenly-

His head is clear and the past half hour is like it never existed, never was and _what the fuck_? How did that just happen that he went wild with lust over someone he hadn't seen in five years, someone he'd never been wild with lust over anyway-

He looks up into Dean's cold eyes, the look on his face like he just ate something foul, like he just laid eyes on the worst thing he'd ever seen and he's looking at _Sam_ like that.

"Dean-"

"Get in the fucking car." His voice is old, dead.

"Dean, please-"

But he's turning away, walking around and Sam hears the creak of the driver's door open and shut, the motor coming to life behind him and he's up, shoving his dick into his pants and wrenching open the door before Dean leaves without him, sliding in, barely getting the door shut before Dean hits the gas, spraying gravel and dirt up behind him, driving like hell hounds are after them. He risks a glance over at his brother and Dean's glaring at the road ahead, breathing hard, two high spots of color burning into his cheeks, his tic twitching a mile a minute as he grits his jaw hard. Sam looks down at himself, shit, he's still unzipped and unbuttoned and he quickly fixes, pulling his shirt down and rubbing his hands nervously over his thighs, wondering where the hell they're going in such a hurry.

Dean pulls over suddenly, hitting the brakes so hard Sam's thrown forward, hitting the dashboard with his hands, stopping himself from flying into the windshield and Dean's out of the car before Sam can speak, wrenching open his door and hauling him out.

"Dean, what-"

"Fucking move, Sam!" and Dean's yanking him into the trees, pushing him down a worn path so fast, Sam's stumbling behind and he feels the sound before he hears it, the ground rumbling under his feet and then the drumming reaches his ears, a steady beat of something large, something natural and they round a bend and there's the waterfall, high above them, splashing into a massive pool in front, surrounded by rocks and foliage, beautiful, stunning and so loud he can't hear himself think.

Dean's back is to him, his shoulders slumped and head down and Sam reaches out, touching his back lightly and the next thing he knows, he's on his ass on the ground, his jaw lit up with red-hot pain from the punch he hadn't seen coming and he shakes his head to clear it, fuzzy around the edges and Dean's on top of him, fist clenched around the collar of his shirt, pulling him up into Dean's snarling face-

"You fucking _smell_ like him, you son of a bitch, he's all over your hands and your fingers so don't you fucking _touch_ me-"

And Dean's got him up, on his feet, shoving him forward, into the water, clothes and all, coming in after him, wrestling him and pushing him and he's under the waterfall, can't see, can't see because the force of the water is bearing down on him and he's falling to his knees and Dean's holding him there, yanking open his shirt, buttons flying, ripping it off his body.

Sam wants to help, wants to make Dean better so he's letting Dean, not fighting, and Dean's scrubbing his hair with harsh fingers, scraping the scalp raw and using Sam's ruined shirt to rub fiercely at his face and his skin, so hard his flesh is branded hot, close to bleeding and Dean's got him up on his feet, holding him under the water, yanking open his jeans with one hand. Sam's shoving them down, spreading his legs so Dean can clean him and Dean's so rough Sam has to bit his lip to not cry out, his dick and balls feeling scoured, burned, the insides of his thighs red and raw.

Finally, finally, Dean stops, lets him go and turns away, leaving Sam to struggle out of the waterfall without help and Sam makes it to the pond, pulling up his wet underwear and jeans, wading through the water and climbing out, his clothes heavy on him and he can't find Dean, can't see him anywhere. He's trembling, his back tense and stiff, scared and so fucking sick to his stomach he can barely stop from puking because now he has to face Dean and try to explain something he has no explanation for, no excuse for.

He makes his way back to the Impala slowly, relaxing a little when he sees Dean sitting there, anger and hurt in every line of his body but he's still _here_, waiting for Sam, didn't run away this time and that's a good thing. Sam opens the door and sees a towel on his seat, folded up in a neat square, Dean's 's still taking care of him even now, and Sam can't feel any worse right now, can't go any lower-

He takes up the towel, quick drying himself before laying it on the seat and sitting down, shutting the door with a thud and leaning back, waiting for the storm he knows is coming.

All he gets, the only thing Dean can mutter is "Jesus Christ, Sam-"

And he guns the engine, peeling away onto the road, eyebrows drawn together in a fierce scowl and silence roars between them but Sam can feel Dean, chafing at the bit, seething and working himself up to a full blown rage, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel as he speeds around curves, flies down country roads and squeals into the driveway of their motel, screeching to a halt in front of their room.

"Get out." Dean barely looks at him, voice commanding, deadly.

"What are-what are you gonna-"

"Take a fucking shower, man…I can still smell the stink of him on you."

"Dean-"

Dean turns, snarling at him, yelling the words, "Get the fuck out, Sam or so help me God, I'll make you get out!"

Sam opens the door, shaking at the look of hate on Dean's face and gets out, "Where are you going?"

"Gonna go have me a little talk with James. Shut the door."

"Wait, Dean-"

But Dean glares at him and hits the gas, giving Sam mere seconds to shut the door and jump out of the way and all he can do is yell after the speeding car, "Don't touch the pipe, Dean!"

Shit! He frantically dials Dean's cell but Dean won't answer, course he won't and Sam frantically leaves him a message, "Dean, whatever you do, don't touch the flute…it's haunted or cursed or something and makes you crazy, makes you want to fuck anything that moves…just…damn it! Be careful, man."

There's no _way_ in hell this is gonna end good.

*


	4. Chapter 4

*

**A/N: So, it's okay if I totally screw with mythology, right? **

*

*

_What am I supposed to do now, Sammy? What the hell am I supposed to do?_

The rage inside him is rolling in his belly, black and stinking, so fierce and hating he can barely see with it.

He can't believe-

He never thought Sam-

Christ!

Dean's belly gives a lurch and he's pulling over, yanking open the door and puking his guts out all over the side of the road. When he leans back in, trembling and gasping, weakly wiping at his mouth, he's fighting back tears that sting and burn at his eyes but he won't give in to it, won't let them out and he clenches his jaw so hard he's surprised his teeth aren't cracking under the pressure.

He has to be strong, take care of this business and work the case and then, when it's over and done with, he can slink away and hide, find somewhere to hole up, try to heal from this, away from Sam, away from this damn thing that's killing him inside, slicing him open and spilling out his blood-

He should have known better. Ever since he'd let his love for Sam out, let it see the light of day, he'd known something like this was bound to happen, known that he could never be happy, not Dean Winchester – it just wasn't in the cards for him. Now, look at him…he's a festering wound, half the man he used to be, no pride, no self-respect-

And sweet Christ, the only thing he can think of right now is how much he wants to lay with Sam again, just the two of them, letting the rest of the world fall away, feeling the heat of Sam's body wrapping around him, earning sweet whimpers out of his brother with each deep thrust, Sam's trembling orgasm bringing his own staggering release.

He closes his eyes with a groan and lets his head fall back onto the leather seat, _just want to go away from this, somewhere quiet, peaceful-_

And he looks around at the idyllic setting surrounding him, the air humming with insects, birds chirping lazily from nearby trees, the smell of the woods through his open window sharp and pungent, all around him, crowding in on him, honey cedar and soft moss, the fresh smell of dirt recently turned for planting-

With a wrenching, his stomach rolls over again and he's hanging back out the door, face bent low over the dusty road, dry heaves racking through him, belly empty and he's cramping with spasms, wuffling in great gulps of air. The image of Sam, his hand on that guy's dick, _Jesus Christ_, it's burned into his brain, so crystal clear that all he has to do is close his eyes and he's back _in_ it, and no matter which way he turns it, no matter what his practical brain says _must _have happened, he can't be rational, sane about this because he's twisted up with it, it's replaying in slow motion over and over in his head-

When he'd crashed into the cottage, he'd been stunned, horrified, his mind taking in the situation at a glance, the man hanging onto Sam, Sam's hand surrounding the thick cock, fingers covered in strings of white come, and the look on _his_ face-

Sam had been gone, absent, rooms empty, nobody home, moving his hand like a robot, unfocused, unaware…until he'd seen Dean, that is and then Sam had jolted back, realized where he was but by that time, Dean had been too busy punching 'dick man' a new face to notice much of anything else.

What the hell kind of mojo had the guy worked on Sam, that he was able to control him, to pull strings that had Sam jerking and dancing like a puppet, reasoning and free will gone but still _there_ enough to move, to function, to get an erection so bad he needed to jerk off before he could make it to the car?

And what the hell had _that _been about?

Dean had tried to help, tried to get Sam off the ground and into the car but Sam _couldn't_ so whatever it was had taken away Sam's will, his decency and _humanness, _and left him crude, caveman, blistering sexual need, all hungry and rutting until nothing else mattered except touching himself, getting off, shooting his load and putting out the fire in his balls, in his cock.

Dean's rage was a blessing in disguise because watching Sam, on his knees in the gravel, pulling and tugging on himself, palm tight, working the red, pulsing shaft, the image had spoken right to Dean's dick and it was all he could do not to shove Sam forward, work him open with rough, plunging fingers, and take him hard, right there. His anger had stopped him, the cold hurt in his heart doing the rest and he'd done the only thing he could, gotten Sam the hell out of there as soon as Sam had finished and was able.

The guy had to be some sort of warlock or hoodoo priest to wield _that_ sort of control, that's the only explanation, because if he _wasn't_, if he was human, that meant-

That meant-

Dean's mind skitters across the thought, his stomach jolting back up into his throat again, the taste of bile slick on the back of his tongue and he forces it down, forces himself to think the words, to _know_ it-

If James was _human_, then Sam had done it on his own, hadn't been on autopilot but had jerked the guy off because he _wanted_ to, because Sam still had feelings for the man and if that was true then-

He pushes a finger against his temple, rubbing away the piercing stab of pain that's taken up residence there, his belly ebbing and flowing like the tide, nausea swimming in and out of him and he swallows fast, trying to hold it in, keep it down.

A painful moan falls from his throat, eyes swimming with unshed tears, vision blurring in and out, and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, _won't lose it, won't fucking let it out_, and if Sam wants to be with James then Dean will give him that, won't stand in Sam's way or hurt his brother's chance at happiness and if this dude, this asshole makes Sammy happy that's good enough for Dean – but that doesn't mean he has to stand around and watch, be best man at the wedding because there's just no way…

He just can't, ok? He's not strong enough to stay_-_

There's only one thing Dean _can_ do at this point and that's leave, run, reverse gears and high tail it out of here before Sammy even knows he's gone, go underground and bury himself so deep there's no way Sam could find him. And when he's finally hidden, then he can think on things, decide what to do but he can't now, not when he's in the thick of it because he loves Sam so _much_-

One tear spills out, trailing a hot path down his cheek and he slaps it away, pounding on the steering wheel with a hard fist, picturing the man's face, the one who held Sam's heart, the fucking son of a bitch Sam loved, _had_ loved this whole time.

_Shit, Goddamn and fuck!_

How in hell is he supposed to handle this? He hiccups over a scared laugh, _not too well, is how_ and his fists clench tight, just wants to beat something bloody, rip something apart, scream out his rage and his pain to the skies above, the fucking sunshiny happy blue sky that smiles down at him mockingly.

_What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Sammy?_

An errant thought from the back of his mind has fear trickling through him, sudden and sharp, the realization that if this guy _is_ some kind of warlock or mythical being, the asshole could take Sam again, at any time and _fuck_, Dean totally forgot to check Sam's pockets for charms or talismans-

He feels the cold purpose flow through him, filling him up, familiar and normal in this fog of hurt, and _this_ he knows, it's been his job since his brother took his first breath…protect Sam, take care of Sam.

Dean firms his jaw, sitting up straight and punching down his foot, hitting the gas hard, the car leaping forward with a growl of engine, gripping the road tight, wheels squealing with the glee of the chase.

If the guy _is_ a supernatural being, he's only got about two minutes left to live.

*

The Impala skids and slides into the driveway, throwing up rocks and stones before coming to a shuddering halt and Dean jumps out, stalking up to the cabin on stiff, angry legs. He stands on the porch for a moment, breathing hard before he lunges forward, raising a boot, and giving the door a sturdy kick, square in the middle and it flies inward, rocking on its hinges, making the whole cabin shake. The kitchen's empty and Dean glances around quick before marching into the living room.

The man is kneeling in front of a safe, blood soaked ice pack against his nose and his eyes flicker to Dean's, no alarm in them, looking like he was expecting him.

"Did you come back to break it again?" His voice is nasally, stuffed and he moves the towel, his nose huge and swollen.

"Get up." Dean snarls at him, legs spread wide, fists bunched against his thighs.

"Or what? You'll beat me up? You've already shown you can do that, the question is why do you want to?"

"I said get up!" And Dean reaches down, grabbing the man's collar and yanking him to his feet, shaking him like a rag doll even though he's taller than Dean, almost as tall as Sam.

His hands are gripping Dean's shoulders, hanging on tight, staring down in alarm, in fear, _yeah, you'd better be fucking scared, _blue eyes searching his face, "Wait! It's Dean, right? You're Dean?"

Dean's fingers tighten into the cloth of the man's shirt, twisting the collar around his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply "And you're James, the fucking college geek that took advantage of my brother!"

And he shoves James back against the safe, glaring up at him, seething in his skin, the other man's hands dropping the ice pack and coming up, tugging on Dean's, trying to get air, coughing out the words in a tight whisper, "Can't breathe…let go…"

Dean eases up just enough so the guy doesn't pass out, "What are you – a witch, a trickster, what? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gank you right here!"

"I'm just a-just a man!" the voice is hoarse, wheezing, "Not…witch…not anything…just a teacher…"

The words slice into Dean-

No, NO. He has to be supernatural, has to have powers-

That way Dean can kill him, easy, without questions or doubts because his hands are itching to do just that, snap his neck or stab his heart with his silver knife, hell, gag him on holy water if that's what it takes-

But-

If he's just a man, as he says…then Sam wasn't possessed or taken over. Sam touched him willingly, wantonly, and fuck! Dean can't deal with that at all-

He throws the man back in disgust, wiping his hands against his thighs to get the feel of him off. James collapses against the safe, huffing in deep pulls of air, holding his throat like it's on fire, "Almost choked me to death…"

Dean sneers at him, "If I had wanted you dead, you'd be dead. What'd you do to my brother?"

"What did I-? Nothing! I didn't do anything! W-where is Sam…is he ok?"

The familiar way Sam's name falls off his lips has Dean seething, possessive, red-hot and angry, fury sliding around the edges of his vision, threatening to take him over and he's clenching and unclenching his fists, wanting to beat this jerk bloody "You don't worry about my brother – I take care of Sam. You need to worry about yourself right now."

"Listen, I never took advantage of Sam. If anything, it was the other way around!" James takes in a breath, his mind sharpening once oxygen is flowing back into him again, his blue eyes searing Dean's face, "Wait, why did Sam even tell you about me? He didn't have to - all he had to say was an old friend from school called for his help. But no, he _told_ you about us, about what we were to each other. Why?"

Dean glowers at him, brows drawn together in a forbidding frown, "None of your fucking business."

"Holy shit! You're together, aren't you?" And James catches the slight blush on Dean's face, takes it as confirmation because he gives a sharp laugh, "You are! Well, that answers another question. I often wondered if Sam ever managed to find the courage to tell you how he felt and I guess he did. And you reciprocated."

"That's right. And you need to stay the fuck away from him."

"And if I don't? Are you so insecure that you think Sam would choose me over you?"

_You don't know the h__al__f of it, man…Sam did choose you over me…_and Dean's heart rips open a little more, _God, it hurts, hurts so fucking bad-_

"I wasn't insecure until I walked in to find Sam's hand on your dick. That kind of made me sit up and take notice, you know?"And Dean grabs James's hand, twisting it around and slicing into the palm with his silver knife, a deep cut that instantly blossoms blood and James gasps, a whispered, "Fuck!" making its way to Dean's ears but James doesn't change, doesn't morph out-

"What the hell did you do that for!?" James's hand is at his mouth, sucking down the blood as he frantically looks around for something to staunch the flow. He's bending, retrieving the towel around the ice pack and wrapping his hand, "Fucking assh-" and his words are cut off when Dean throws holy water in his face.

James wipes off his dripping face with a free hand, staring at Dean like he's gone crazy right there in front of him, mouth opening to let loose with some choice words but shutting up quick when he sees the gun in Dean's hand.

"Ok, wait! Wait, please, just...put that away, ok? Come on, man..."

And Dean's shoulders slump when he realizes James isn't evil, dejection in every bone because the bastard is human and the slash of pain shooting through his gut leaves him numb and breathless. He uncocks the gun and slides it back into the waistband of his jeans, locking stone-cold eyes on the other man when James asks, "Didn't Sam tell you what - I mean, you have no idea what happened, do you?"

"Sam didn't feel much like talking, you know? He was too busy jerking off in your driveway so you're gonna have to fill me in on the horny details, like how the fuck Sam ended up with your come all over his hand!"

James scowls at him, looking at Dean like he's the biggest jerk in the world, "You know, Sam was right about one thing. You are a dick." Icy blue eyes stare into Dean's, James's mouth pressed into a thin line, "I always hated you, you know that? You held Sam's heart, something I never could and you had no fucking clue what you even had! He wouldn't let anyone else near him, he wouldn't touch me, wouldn't kiss me and I could never figure out why. At first I thought he was freaked out by the gay thing but that wasn't it...nope, not at all and when I finally got it out of him, God, it made perfect sense that he was in love with someone else-"

He continues, sneering right back at Dean, "I wanted him so bad – still do, truth be told and if he even gives me so much as a nod, I'm going for it, going after him and you can go fuck yourself because it's every man for himself at this point. Your brother is the best man I've ever met and maybe if you took the time to see that, took the time to really appreciate him, you wouldn't be in this mess!"

James takes a breath, makes a decision, "You need to know what happened. I'm drawing the line right now...I want Sam and I'm going to try my best to get him but I'm not taking advantage of the situation. If Sam ends up coming to me at the end of this, it'll be from his own free will and not because I forced or tricked anyone. You'll know it all, everything but I'm not going to tell you what went down because it's better if I show you."

And James gestures to the open safe, "With your permission…" and bends down, one fluid motion, grabbing the flute and tossing it over quick, right at Dean's head so he has no choice but to reach up and grab it, and Dean catches it in one hand without thinking, turning it over in his palms before unwrapping it and holding it up.

"What the hell is this? Is this the magical flute that makes you see Cupid or something? Am I supposed to be impressed?" And Dean puts it to his lips, blows across the top of it gently, producing a clear tone, "Doesn't seem like all that much…"

And James stares at him, eyes glittering like diamonds, waiting for something, anticipation in every bone, and Dean looks back at him, shrugging, "What?"

And he hears the clattering against stone, sounds like a horse or something and…_is that music?_ The sweet tones of it, dulcet and soft, reach his ears and he cocks his head, "What in hell is that?"

He feels the tickle of arousal in his balls, flames licking at his dick with each pulse of the beat, the song slithering its way into the dark recesses of his mind, and he's suddenly sweating, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck and _what the hell_-

The notes sway in the air, he can almost see them, touching a deep, buried part of him, the_ beast_, old and primal, back to a time when it was just man, taking what he wanted when he wanted it, survival of the fittest-

A fierceness rises up inside him, guttural and harsh, pulsing to the stuttering tunes of the panpipe-

And he feels the music shoot up his back, the melody touching him, stroking him and he's starting to steam up, getting hot, really hot, the air around him pulsing, sweltering and it's muggy, close, can't breathe through it, like a soggy towel has been laid across his nose and mouth.

Dean catches the shadow out of the corner of his eye and it stays there, in his peripheral vision when he looks dead on at it, dancing just out of reach, just out of thought, the music growing, swelling and his erection is sudden, swift, his hand rubbing against it before he even knows what he's doing and he glances across the room-

At James whose eyes are glowing with passion, with lust and he sees James's hand go down, to his own dick and wow, that's pretty fucking hot, watching him caress himself and no wonder Sam likes him, he's sure handsome enough, oozing sex appeal even with the busted nose, the odd grin crooking his mouth, confident in his own skin and yeah, Dean could smack that, sure he could-

What the fuck is he thinking? Dean shakes his head, trying to clear his brain…it's that music, it's filling his mind with images, giving him ideas he would never even consider, wearing down his defenses and it's getting louder now, more strident, the beating of it faster and faster and he's panting along in rhythm, his dick twitching and growing in his pants and he's sweating, _Christ,_ sweating up a frigging storm, so hot, can't get a breath-

_Touch yourself-_

The shadow dances faster and Dean can feel the throb in his cock, pulsing and heavy with each twist and bend and he can see it full on now, it's dark mystery, dancing just for him, _Come on, you know you want to, feels so good, rolling your hot p__al__m over your cock,_ and it wants him to touch himself, pull himself out right there and stroke along his shaft, and wouldn't James be nice to fuck right about now?

He rips his eyes away from the twisting shadow, sheer force of will, looking for James and Dean feels him before he sees him, he's right there, behind him, hands sliding around his waist, reaching down to cup Dean's dick through his jeans, groping, squeezing and Jesus, that feels fucking _good_ and he turns, ready to slide right into that mouth, to hump against that hand and James's blue eyes stare up into his-

Blue eyes-

Not Sam's eyes-

And No, No, NO! This is not gonna happen, now way, no how! He doesn't know what the son of a bitch did to him but this is over, now, right the fuck now!

His hand curls around the flute, making a fist and before he knows it, he's slamming into James's jaw once, then again, whipping his head around with the force of it and knocking the tall man on his ass, standing over him, glaring down into the pained eyes, James's hand holding the wounded cheek and staring up at Dean with lust-filled eyes.

"Come on, Dean…It'll just be between you and me…Sam won't ever know. I-I want you so bad-."

Dean can barely see with the heat surging through him, the flute playing crazily in his ears, incessant, impossible to ignore, zinging through his brain and lighting it up with sparks, with fire-

Fuck, he needs Sam now, _right now_-

He stares down at James, fighting himself, fighting the crazy lust until he's able to pant out the words, "You're-you're not my fucking type, asshole!"

And he's out of the house, out to the car in seconds, jumping in and throwing it into gear, can't barely drive, gotta get off, gotta come now, right now but he holds back, the image of Sam's naked body taking over his brain, and he's careening over bumps and around curves, racing back to the motel and shit, he can't wait, can't wait to take Sam hard, rough-

*

Sam towels off, his skin still tender from Dean's scrubbing earlier but he's better now, clean and calm, ready to explain, to talk, hoping he can get Dean to try to understand what the hell happened, hoping Dean's okay and James is still alive-

The sound of the door opening has Sam coming out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist as he searches the room for Dean and he sees him standing at the door, back to him, hand on the knob and Sam's tentative, worried, "Dean? You ok?"

And Dean turns around, his eyes bright, fevered, hungry and wild and he takes two long strides towards Sam and reaches out, whipping the towel off Sam's hips and dropping to his knees in front of him and before Sam knows what's happening, Dean's hot mouth is on him, slippery wet and sucking him down and ho, Christ, that feels fucking _awesome_-

Sam is instantly hard, growing in Dean's mouth as the tongue works him, slipping and sliding over and around, sucking and licking and Dean's grunting with the taste, growling in his chest as he pulls Sam in deeper, opening up his throat to swallow all of Sam down-

His hands go to Dean's hair, threading through and clutching the short spikes, his hips are jerking and stuttering in time to the rhythm of Dean's tongue, involuntary, out of control and suddenly _in_ it, out of nowhere, steamy and so _fucking_ aroused, he's moaning and whimpering as that mouth takes him, shooting sparks up and down his legs, jolts of lightening that leave him shaking and weak in the knees.

Dean's urging him backwards, pushing at his hips with his hands, walking forwards on his knees to make Sam reverse and the bed presses into his legs, and Sam lets himself fall back, feeling Dean's teeth rake his dick as he tumbles, his mouth popping off with a wet _thwuck_ and his cock is on fire, the sensitive skin now tingling with memory of the sharp edges of those teeth-

The softness of the bed fills his mind for a moment before that mouth is back on him, warm and wet, tongue slowly lapping the chafe away, gently, so tender after the rough scrape that Sam is whimpering, reaching down to caress his brother's cheek with the pad of his thumb and Dean releases him, Sam's dick red and swollen, bobbing up between them with desire, with need.

Dean's tongue works down, licking at the sensitive vein on the underside, sucking against the velvety skin, taking Sam's balls in his mouth and rolling them, licking and working them and Sam's gasping at the heat, the sizzle surrounding him, it's like Dean has a fire inside him and he's so hot, scorching his skin and that tongue-

_Jesus_, sliding lower, Dean's hands behind his knees, urging his legs up towards his chest, and Sam grabs his knees, pulling them up, spreading himself wide to help so Dean has room, has access and God, he'll give Dean whatever he wants at this point in time, just fucking splay himself wide open, all wanton and turned on, showing his need, his stupid, fucked-up, embarrassing need for his brother's mouth and tongue and touch-

God, he loves this man so fucking much!

Dean's hands spread him wide, so wide it's like he's gonna split wide open and the wet licks, slurping and sucking over his entrance has him twitching, jerking out of control and he's begging, making no sense but can't stop himself because that erotic tongue is like a hot poker now, working its way inside and wiggling, circling around, diving deep and pulling out-

"Jesus, ahhh…shit, so _hot_, just, fuck, _fuck_, God, so good…uhhhh..."

Dean's lips are humming against him and _Holy shit_, it's like nothing he ever felt before, vibrating before each hot poke in and out, then sucking around the puckered ring until he's wild, feels himself thrashing, trying to hold his legs up but they're shaking so bad, he's struggling and Dean's still fucking into him with his tongue, so hot, so wet-

"Dean, God, Dean, please-"

And Dean's mouth is gone, leaving him empty, bereft, shivering with loss and he's flipped over, urged up onto his knees and the sound of Dean's belt buckle sends him swooning, there's no better fucking sound than that, knowing what's coming next and he spreads himself as wide as he can, waiting, trembling wet-

And the hard tip nudging against him, slipping inside and Jesus, Dean's bigger than he remembered, _fucking huge_, stretching him and Sam's breathing out through his mouth, trying to relax and the heat is flowing through him, like a furnace has been lit up in his ass, and the growling behind him grows in intensity, Dean sounding like a wild tiger. Sam feels the pause, hard palms fall on his hips and grip like iron and he closes his eyes in, steeling himself, knowing in an instant what's coming next and the shove forward, the splitting of his ass has him crying out-

The pain is there, _God yes_, burning into him hot and sharp but it's the fire of Dean's dick, buried halfway into him, that's shooting flames right through his cock and he's desperate to come, reaching down and jerking himself hard, God, the heat seeping through his ass is too much for him and he can't stop, can't figure out how Dean isn't combusting with the inferno inside him-

Dean's sliding out and shoving in, grunting with exertion, with the tightness of Sam's ass, his fingernails scraping at Sam's skin, clawing red marks on the flesh and Sam's reaching out, taking hold of the head board with a white-knuckled fist and gripping tight, holding on for dear life, and when Dean finally speaks, his voice is deep, harsh, "Gonna fuck you till you can't stand, till you don't even know your own name-"

And he steps up the pace, pulling out and thrusting in, going deeper with each dive until he's buried and the fire in Dean's body, seated up close under Sam's balls, sends Sam over the edge and he's falling, falling, body stiffening and he's coming, so fucking hard he sees stars, hand pumping up and down his length, spurting all over his hand and the bed, until he's finally spent, drained.

He barely gets a breath before he's pulled up to a sitting position and he's being skewered on Dean's dick, gasping because he's never gone in this deep before, Dean's hands are on his thighs, spreading him wide until he's straddling Dean's knees and Dean's bucking up his hips, stabbing into Sam's ass, hands moving now over Sam's nipples and flicking them, rubbing them, making the nerves jerk and twitch and then one hand moves down, fist closing over Sam's shaft and dragging the skin up and down-

"Dean – man, I can't, I just-"

But Dean won't stop, just keeps working his dick with a hand and thrusting in, adjusting his position so the next jab hits Sam's prostate and a surprised moan jumps out of Sam's throat, the white-hot slash jolting his body and when Dean does it again, Sam feels his erection start growing, can't believe it but there it is-

And then Dean's mouth is on his neck, frantic and wild, sucking and biting at him, the sensitive skin showing marks as Dean chews and then licks, pain and pleasure, until Sam's head falls back, surrendering himself to his brother completely and that drives Dean over the edge, and he's pushing down on Sam's hips, grinding himself up into that hot tight channel and rucking back, shoving in again and again while he works Sam's dick, until his brother is delirious with desire, with need-

Dean's nuzzling against his ear, tonguing around the lobe and inside, moist breath moving the hair over it gently, erotically, words breathy and sensuous, "God, when you come, so fucking hot, Jesus, love watching you, man, makes me just want to shove into you harder-"

And Dean gives a thrust up, punctuating his words and earning a gasp of pleasure from Sam as he rakes across that sweet spot, Sam jumping like a live wire just touched his ass, trembling against him-

"And harder, until you can't take any more-" Dean does it again, pulling back and bucking up, going deep, hard.

"Shit, Dean, shit! I'm gonna-" And with a rocking spasm, Sam's coming again, gasping at the jerking of Dean's wrist, pearly liquid shooting out all over them both, and Sam's collapsing against Dean's chest, huffing loudly into the air and Dean keeps pulling, tugging on Sam's dick until Sam's begging, pulling Dean's hand off, "No more, Dean, please…fucking please, man…I've had it…"

"Need to-need to get off…shit, can't –" And Dean's pushing into him harder, faster, yanking down on Sam's hips as he bucks, rolling himself around and wiggling in deeper, and then changing rhythm, changing pace, giving short, sharp rubs up as he pulls Sam down, grinding himself in and Sam clenches himself around the hot, hard length buried inside him and Dean gives a shout, Sam feeling the tell-tale throb of orgasm inside him, the wet flood of come filling him and Dean's whispering in his ear, "Yes…fuck, yes!"

And he pulls out of Sam's ass, leaving him wide open, gaping and he tugs Sam over on his back, staring down, gaze fiery, fierce, looking different, strange and intense-

"That was…delightful."

Sam barks out a laugh, "Delightful? Dean, don't hurt yourself!"

"What?"

Sam shakes his head, "I mean, since when do you talk like that? And dude?"

He stares down at Dean, running a finger though downy curls, staring at Dean like he has two heads, "Since when do you have chest hair?"

*

Sam jerks awake, fierce throb in his jaw telling him he's been out for a while and he reaches up, touches his mouth and fingers come away crusted with dried blood.

Shit!

He looks frantically around, seeing their motel room, seeing himself naked, sprawled across the bed and the memory comes flooding back into him-

Dean.

Changing, becoming something else…

The silence in the room tells him Dean's gone and Sam remembers asking him about the newly grown chest hair, realizing at the last possible moment that the thing standing in front of him isn't Dean, the eyes are wrong, mischievous and playful, the glint in them pure fucking fire, and he sees the fist swing but he's too slow…all caught up in the mind-bending orgasm he just had and goddamn! That fucking hurts!

The last thing he remembers is Dean (_not Dean_) grinning down at him-

*


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** A reader warned me via private message she would go insane if I waited three weeks to update with another chapter so in the interest of her mental health, here's another offering. Hope you enjoy. FYI, I am working on a RPF Jensen/Jared Story at the same time as I'm doing this one so that's why updates are taking so long.

**DUBCON with forest couple-Be Warned!**

*

*

Dean didn't take the car.

The Impala's still parked outside the motel, chrome shining in the midday sun and Sam beelines for it, scanning the trees and the road automatically, looking for any sign, any clue as to where Dean might have gone. He dials Bobby's number fast as he's moving, creaking open the car door and jumping in, throwing it in reverse and backing out as he's talking.

"Bobby, it's Sam. Dean's in trouble. I need to know all you can find out about Pan, the Greek God…Yeah, Bobby, I know it's a myth, problem is, I think that myth is possessing Dean."

He explains some of it, leaves out most of it but gives Bobby enough to get started and hangs up, squealing out of the driveway and onto the road, tromping on the gas, urging the car to go faster. He grips the steering wheel hard, his heart pounding a frantic beat in his chest, and panic starts to swirl around him, through him, clutching his breath tight in a cold, hard fist until he's gasping with it. Shit! He punches the steering wheel, shit, _shit_! How long had that thing been inside Dean? And how in the hell had it happened? If Dean touched the flute, at most, he should've just been sex-crazed but this-

Sam thinks back, remembering-

When Dean had rolled him over, Sam had still been tingling from the awesome orgasm he'd just had, still reeling from the suddenness of Dean taking him fast and rough and he hadn't caught the change, not at first, at least not until Dean spoke. Then, he'd reached out, touched the hair on Dean's chest and realized something was wrong, really wrong and Sam's gaze had narrowed, looking at Dean carefully for the first time since he'd come home and a thrill of fear shot through him at the sinful lust staring back at him.

Dean's face looking down at him, had…_changed_…the eyebrows were heavier, his hair thicker, more sensual, curling almost around his face, his five o'clock shadow darker, fuller, sideburns grown in and curving down those sculpted cheekbones and those eyes-

_Christ, those eyes…_

Alight with internal flames, they flickered and danced at him, beckoning Sam to come along and delight in the erotic corruption, the wicked desire that Dean exuded, that pulsed out of every pore in his skin. Dean was sex incarnate, shimmering, almost glowing with passion, licking his lips as his eyes roamed over Sam's body, hungry, savage, like he wanted to feast on every part of him and bring Sam to ecstasies he'd only ever dreamt about.

"Dean, what the hell-" had been all Sam had managed before Dean knocked him unconscious.

Nope, Dean had done more than just touch that flute and Sam needed to find out what and the only person who knew that was the last person to see Dean whole and human, the stupid fucking keeper of the instrument and the person who owned the cabin Sam was just now skidding into.

James.

*

He meets Sam at the open doorway, the wood of the door itself lying off its hinges inside and Sam bites back a grin as he takes in the demolition only his angry brother could do. James has a bloody towel wrapped around one hand and his nose is swollen huge, the spark in his blue eyes deadened as he runs his other hand around the back of his neck, rubbing at the tension.

"I knew you'd be coming." James's voice is quiet, resigned.

"What the hell did you do to Dean?"

"Sam-" James starts and stops, shaking his head at himself with a rueful grin and shrugging, "He was being such an asshole that I just wanted to show him what had gone on, wanted him to feel it, too, like we did. He fought it off pretty good, I have to admit. He's got an impressive will."

His words touch a sense of foreboding in Sam's gut and he examines James more closely, the other man clearing his throat and avoiding his eyes, the smile on his lips almost sad, a lost opportunity sad and Sam narrows his gaze, mouth tightening as he feels the first stirrings of jealousy deep inside his heart.

"Did you try to fuck Dean, James? And he said no?"

The blue eyes meet his and Sam sees the truth in them without James having to say a word.

"Did you touch him, James?" Sam steps closer, his shoulders hunched and one side of his mouth ticking up, eyes hard, possessive and angry, and rage is slashing through him now, deep and cutting, but he needs to know it all, needs James to say it.

James clears his throat again and nods, searching Sam's face for reaction and at Sam's sharp intake of breath he winces, bracing himself for another punch.

"Did he-did he touch you back?" Sam forces himself not to swing, not to move but to ask the question, his pained whisper all he can manage and the air presses down on him, heavy, sluggish as he waits, trembling, for the answer.

"No, Sam. He didn't. He said I wasn't his type and ran out the door."

Breath flows back into him and he's sucking in a deep pull of air, relief in every bone and he can think again, feel again and now he knows how Dean must have felt when Sam told him about James in the first place. Like he was going to suffocate and die with the jealousy sweeping through him and he silently promises Dean that when this is over, he's gonna show Dean with his tongue and his mouth and his hands just how much Sam loves him, how much he needs him so Dean understands and never has to feel threatened again.

He nods, giving James a tremulous smile and mutters, "That's good...that's…" and he gives himself a mental shake, Dean's still in trouble so he can be the jealous lover later, right now, he's gotta focus on the job.

"Tell me what happened."

*

"So Dean took the flute?" Sam asks, looking around the living room for it.

James nods and shrugs, "I think so. He knocked me down and he was out the door and speeding away before I got up but he must have – the only thing I found is the parchment it was wrapped in." And he gestures to where Dean dropped it.

Sam glances at it and away, then his eyes move back, his gaze sharpens, "Wait-" and he picks it up, holding it gingerly by one corner, half of him expecting to hear the hooves clattering on the stone and the gentle tone of the pan pipes surrounding him. He pauses, anticipation in every nerve but when nothing happens, he takes the other corner by the tips of his fingers and carries it to a small desk, spreading it out carefully. James follows behind and stares over Sam's shoulder at the marks on the leather.

"It's writing…" James mutters and Sam reaches out to flick on the lamp, giving more light so they can see the faint lettering.

"Some kind of weird language, not Latin or anything I've seen before." Sam chews on the inside of his cheek, eyes straining to make out anything legible.

"It's Arcadocypriot Greek, looks like." And at Sam's incredulous look, James blinks back, "What? It's my speciality, remember?"

"Can you read this?" Sam asks hopefully.

"Not off the top of my head but I've got some books that I may be able to use to get you a decent translation. It's gonna take me some time, though."

"How much time?"

"Sam, I don't know. I've never done this before."

Sam nods, "It'll go faster with two of us. Get the books and let's get to work."

*

He hears the couple walking along the path underneath him and he silently swings down to a lower branch, toes curling around the bark to keep his balance. He has legs and feet now, instead of hooves and it's taking a little getting used to but the body he's in is strong, virile and, he runs a hand down over his member, nicely gifted. The people below are arguing, angry gestures punctuating their harsh words, the woman almost shrieking at the man and it hurts his ears…they should be touching each other in love, exploring each other - don't they know their bodies were made for that very purpose? He shakes his head at them, oh, what pleasures they're missing, what delicacies they're not sampling…

With a decisive snort, he lifts the flute to his mouth and plays a short burst of sweet music. The two below barely pause in their vicious fight so he crouches lower and plays louder, a longer song, the birds in the trees echoing the tune. Ah, that got their attention. They've fallen silent, looking around to find the source, the beginning of that soft melody and he gives another trill and another, until the woman swipes a hand around the back of her neck and loosens the buttons of her shirt from around her throat.

The man is staring at her now, reaching out, pulling the pins out of her hair and letting it fall, flow around her face and she's a beautiful creature, so alive and so vibrant, it's all he can do not to swing down and take her for himself. But no, this man needs the warmth of her wrapped around him, needs to plow the field and plant his seed, needs to show her the magic of her own body…

He twitters another scale, faster, fingers flying over the flute, seven reeds in all now, easily created with a wave of his hand once he had the remnant, faster and louder, watching the man pull the maiden forward, claiming her mouth and she fights, yes, but that's part of the game, part of the dance and he plays louder-

Down below him, the man takes her rough, ripping at her clothes and forcing her naked body down onto the forest path, holding down her arms while he suckles at her breast, spreading her legs wide and possessing her as she cries out her need and her want, bucking into her and finally, she meets him there, begging him for more, for release-

His fingers play the notes in time to the man's thrusting hips, in time to the woman's passionate whimpers and suddenly, they reach nirvana, frozen in time, muscles clenched in orgasm, rocking and writhing together in the final dance and he lets his notes fall away, the birds suddenly silent and even the air is still, waiting, watching.

The man pulls back and looks down at the woman, horrified, scrambling to his feet and pulling up his pants over his limp, dripping member, speaking words of apology, of remorse and the woman is gathering up her clothes silently, trying her best to redress herself with what tattered remains she can find but there's not much left. The man takes off his shirt and puts it around her shoulders and she looks up at him, love flowing out of her and reaches up an arm, pulls him down for a deep kiss. He jerks back for a moment of surprise and then he kisses her back, long and lazy and when they leave his forest, their arms are wrapped around each other and their voices are low, earnest, like lovers should speak to each other.

He reaches down and strokes himself, already hard and wanting, the coupling below having aroused him to fever pitch and he thinks about this vessel's brother, so welcoming and warm, taking him into his body and letting him possess, letting him control…

He may have to visit the brother again, soon, because this hardness has to be addressed, taken care of and he can't think of a nicer place to be than buried in that gorgeous man's hot, tight channel, his fist pulling on the other's shaft as he protests and begs for mercy, that sweet mouth whimpering and gasping out his pleasure-

Sam. The brother's name is Sam.

*

"Hey, Bobby. What'd you find out?" Sam listens to the voice on the other end, "Yeah, there's a piece of the actual panpipe here and Dean touched it." He listens again, "Just a second, I'll ask…"

Sam covers the receiver, "Did Dean blow into the pipe?"

James's eyes go wide and he nods emphatically as he remembers, "Yes! Yes, he did!"

Sam closes his eyes, "Shit." And he's back talking to Bobby, "Yeah, Bobby, he did."

And he winces at the invectives being hurled through the phone at him, "Man, Bobby, it's not my fault! I wasn't with him. Because he needed to be alone, ok? Yeah, I know, we're both idjits. Listen, we found what looks to be a binding spell written on the parchment the flute was wrapped in. We're translating it now. Who's we? Oh, me and a professor from Stanford, he's an expert in…Yeah, it's his flute. Ok, I'll tell him." And Sam hangs up.

"Tell me what?"

Sam gives him a crooked grin, "That you're an idjit, too, because you didn't keep it away from human contact. Bobby says all you had to do was not let anybody touch it and no harm would have come. But once a tortured soul blows into it, it summons Pan himself to come forward, possess whomever has played the tune and binds them inside, so that Pan can use their body to wreak havoc on unsuspecting victims."

"So, that's what happened to Dean? Pan's taken over his body and doing what? Making people senselessly fuck each other?"

They both stare at each other in dawning comprehension and Sam sputters, "Christ, that would be-"

James rolls his eyes and gives a cheeky grin, "An awesome sight, actually…"

Sam scootches his chair back into the desk and hunkers down, "Fuck, man, that's my brother we're talking about! We need to get this shit translated so we can save him and send Pan back into whatever dimension he needs to go back to, ok? So, come on!"

And James sits next to him, pulling his chair closer, bumping shoulders as he settles and Sam feels it but shakes it off, pulling the volume of lore towards him and painstakingly translating another few symbols. The nudge against his knee catches his attention and he turns his head, James face so close he can feel the other man's breath on his face.

"Sam-"

James seems uncertain, troubled when Sam looks back at him expectantly and he's stuttering out the question, "I know you and Dean have, I mean, I know you and he, well..." He gives a sigh, "I just want you to know that I'm still, I mean, interested, um, if you are."

And he slides a hand over Sam's thigh, warm and tender, blue eyes easing across his face and whispers, "No questions asked. Just want you, you know?"

Sam thinks again how much James is like Dean, struggling with emotions, with words, child-like in ways and so strong in others and he wishes for a moment that he didn't love Dean so he could make this man happy and finally give him what he wants, what he's wanted from Sam for years.

And then, without thought, Sam bends forward and kisses the other man's mouth, gently so as not to bump his broken nose, a sweet kiss that's meant as an apology and as a goodbye. James's hand slides around his neck and pulls him closer, trying to open his lips, slide his tongue in but Sam's pulling back, shaking his head and tugging the arm off.

James sees the sadness and caring in Sam's eyes and his gaze echoes it, staring into Sam, nodding his understanding, his acceptance. When James finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, rough, "I sure hope your asshole brother appreciates you someday."

Sam smiles at him, "Don't worry. He does."

Another shared look, another sad smile and they wordlessly go back to work.

*

Night comes quickly to the forest.

The brother is inside the cabin, the scent of him strong in Pan's nose and he watches with bated breath as the pair of men sit at the table, writing. His shaft is hard with need and he works it with a hand, watching the brother, the Sam, lick his lips as he works and he wants to bite and suck on those lips, wants them wrapped around him, wet and slippery, wants to spread his seed into that mouth, watching the Sam swallow every drop.

He sees the brother sit back and throw down his quill, standing up to stretch the length of him, leaning backwards and Pan is alert, eyes roving over the delicious body he's tasted before, a peek of skin at the Sam's belt enticing him, calling to him.

The brother speaks to the other man earnestly, nodding and gesturing at the table and finally, taking a square out of his pocket, opening it and pressing onto it with a thumb. He puts the square to his ear-

Loud raceous noise from behind Pan has him snorting in alarm and he's clawing at his pants, the noise coming from him, eyes wild with panic and the pocket rips open, the square screaming his location to every forest creature within ear shot.

*

Sam hears Dean's phone, _it's right outside_, and he's stumbling towards it fast, hitting the porch running, following the music to some bushes right at the edge of the woods surrounding James's cabin. He picks it up, disappointment rearing up, _Damn it, Dean, where the hell are you_, and then he sees the footprints and slide marks, leading back into the woods and he knows-

Dean was here, watching them-

"Dean!" Sam yells, "I know you're there! Let me help you…"

Silence answers him, the night creatures strangely quiet, waiting for something-

*

The brother is calling to him, bading him to come and he steps out into the moonlight, to give him a glimpse, a shadow and then pulls back.

*

"Dean!" Sam sees him, just there, crouched behind a grove of trees and runs forward, gets there but Dean is gone and he looks around frantically, the full moon shining plenty of light over the forest and _there_, just ahead, Dean's peeking out from behind a huge cedar tree, hands gripping the trunk tightly. In a blink of an eye, he's gone and Sam is a second too late, a step behind and he looks around again and then Dean's beckoning to him, _come and get me, Sam_, smiling at him, eyes glittering out into the night.

Dean leads him deeper into the forest and Sam knows it's a trap but he can't stop himself, he has to follow those eyes and when he comes to the clearing, he knows he's at least a half mile away from James's cabin, pretty much lost in the woods and turning in circles, looking around for another glimpse of Dean.

The trill of the flute reaches his ears, it's above him and he looks up and there's Dean, crouched on a low hanging branch, shirtless, pants unbuttoned, unzipped and his dick is standing at attention, erect and heavy with need, with lust-

Dean holds the flute to his lips and Sam sees it's whole now, seven reeds instead of just the one, and his brother blows it lightly, the melody fluttering out over the air, shimmering up and down Sam's spine, flicking and tingling at his skin, stealing Sam's breath away as he stares up at the stunning creature above him.

God, so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous, sizzling with heat and those eyes hold his, dark and intense, flames of lust dancing there, daring Sam to come to him, offering passion and lust and searing heat, promising to take Sam higher than he's ever gone before-

The fire in his cock is instantaneous, scorching him, the lilting tones becoming strident, insistent and Sam takes a step forward, can't stop himself, he's so hot, so steamy, so fucking horny he can't think, can't fight because the notes are working into his brain, tickling into the deepest recesses and making him squirm over the rock-hard erection that's shot up out of nowhere.

He's sweating, gasping and Dean jumps down in front of him, blowing into the flute more slowly now, lazy and he gives Sam a sensuous grin, pushing the panpipe into a back pocket and staring up into Sam's eyes, hypnotizing him and Sam feels like he's drowning in the hot fire of that gaze.

"Do you want to know how I found you, brother?" Pan asks, voice low and sensual, licking at the nerves along Sam's skin, giving him goose bumps all over his body.

Sam can't speak, can only nod, totally under the flute's spell and Pan leans closer, breathing hotly into Sam's ear, making him shiver with delight, with anticipation, "I can smell you on my fingers…your delicious scent all over my hands, ummm…"

And Dean leans back so Sam can see, putting his fingers to his nose, inhaling deeply and then licking each one, tongue sliding along, eyes boring a hole into Sam's and Sam can't breath-

His dick gives a throb, straining against the denim of his jeans and _Jesus Christ, that's the fucking hottest thing he's ever seen-_

"Touch me." Pan commands and Sam reaches out, grasping the heavy dick in front of him, giving it a slow pull up and hands grip his shoulders painfully, digging into him, "Harder…faster…"

"No-" Sam shakes his head, whimpering, trying to keep control.

"You don't say no to me, brother. You can't resist me."

"Dean…want Dean…give me Dean and I'll do it…" Sam is shaking with tension, trying to hold himself back, trying not to give in and let go.

"You want your brother? And I get to watch? Hmmm…I'll do it but only if you take him in your mouth - I want to see your lips working him, swallowing him down. I've been dreaming of you doing that all afternoon. Agreed?"

"A-agreed." Sam is panting with desire now, can't wait, can't wait to be with Dean again-

"Sammy? What the hell?" And as soon as he hears Dean's voice, he's capturing his mouth, kissing him hard, rough, pushing his lips apart and shoving in his tongue, meeting Dean's with wild abandon and Dean gives a low moan, kissing back, hands moving over Sam's body, caressing and petting.

They break apart, gasping into the air between them and staring at each other, Sam shaking his head, "No talking, Dean, not now, just-I need you so fucking bad, just need you, man-let me, let me show you-"

And he's kissing along Dean's jaw, frantic and hurried, down his throat, humming and sucking over the sensitive skin and Dean tilts back his head to let Sam's mouth wander. Sam's hands are roaming over Dean's back, feathering along the muscles and sliding over his ribs to the front, flicking over the hard nub of nipples.

Dean jerks back, starts to stutter out words but Sam's mouth is back on his again, desperate and needy, dancing his tongue over Dean's, searching and plundering Dean's mouth, going as deep as he can-

And his hand is back around Dean's cock, gripping the base hard and dragging the skin up, flicking a thumb over the head and making Dean's hips buck towards him, the groan of pleasure reaching Sam's ears a second later.

Dean breaks the kiss, pulling in huffs of air, his breath sweet in Sam's nose "Jesus Christ, Sammy, feels so _good_-"

And Sam jerks and pulls, working Dean hard, until he's trembling with the need for release, his hips rolling and pitching, thrusting into Sam's hot palm, "God, Sammy, God…"

And Sam drops down on his knees, pulling back on the foreskin and licking a circle around the head of Dean's dick, tasting the delicious pearls leaking out of him and Dean's hands grip his head instantly, nerves on overdrive, muscles twitching and bucking, "_Sweet Christ_, your fucking tongue…"

And Sam opens wide, sliding his mouth down as far over Dean's cock as he can, opening up his throat to take him deep and he's pulling off, almost to the head, swirling around the tip with his tongue before he dives back in again, Dean moaning and shivering against him. Sam slides his hands around Dean's hips, gripping his ass through his jeans and pulling him forward, mouth meeting his thrust eagerly, sucking him down, the taste of Dean making Sam dizzy, hungry for more-

Dean picks up the pace, shoving into his mouth hard and Sam relaxes, letting Dean lead now, faster and faster until he feels the throb and Dean stiffens, and the hot liquid hits the back of Sam's throat and tongue and _fuck_, the flavor, salty sweet and so _Dean _that Sam feels tears gathering in his eyes. Damn it, he's missed Dean.

Sam swallows it all down, sucking and licking to make sure he gets every drop and Dean falls back, exhausted and trembling, spasms racking through him and Sam stands up, holding onto Dean tight, hugging him close and Dean's mouth is on his in a heartbeat, kissing the breath out of him.

His husky voice in Sam's ear, "Need you inside me, Sammy, please…wanna feel you-"

And Sam is nuzzling under Dean's ear, nodding, whispering, "Love you so much, man…missed you so much…" and he's shoving down Dean's jeans, helping him to kick them off and Dean's hands are on his pants, unbuttoning, unzipping, yanking them down and touching him, palms hot against his skin, his erection so huge, so heavy that he thinks he may just come from Dean's touch.

"God, man, you gotta stop or I'm gonna shoot off right now-" And he's spinning Dean around, urging him up against a tree and dropping down to his knees again, pulling Dean's ass cheeks wide and licking in with his tongue. Dean gasps and spreads his legs wide, reaching up to hang onto some overhead branches, his knees already shaking with reaction and Sam circles his hole, fluttering over it again and again until Dean's loosening up, leaning forward, his ass jutting out towards Sam and he's raising up on his toes, wanting Sam in deeper, wanting more-

Sam slides in his tongue, thumbs on either side of Dean's hole, pulling it open and Sam licks in and around, poking in and pulling back, working Dean open and earning whimpery moans and hoarse grunts as Dean jerks and twitches against him, almost sobbing out words, "Fuck, Sam, feels so goddamn good, so fucking-God, so hot inside me, can't take it-gotta have you, Sammy, please, man, please, need-"

And Sam's rising up, spitting into his hand and lubricating himself, staring down at Dean in the moonlight, wide open and waiting for him and Christ, his dick is throbbing with want and he positions himself, braces Dean's hips and shoves in hard, getting half-way there before Dean's muscles clench and stop him.

Dean's gripping the branches so tight his knuckles are white and he's breathing, gasping, trying to relax, his whispered, "Yes, yes, _yes_!" reaching Sam's ears, sending quivers of desire up his back and he's sliding back out and thrusting in again, Dean's breath whooshing out of him at the force of it.

"God, harder, Sammy, harder!" And Sam doesn't need to be told twice, he's jerking back and shoving forward, going deeper each time, making sure to hit against the sweet spot in Dean's ass, his brother yelping out his pleasure with each thrust and finally, Sam's buried, balls smacking up against Dean's ass and they rest for a moment, Sam's hand finding Dean's dick and slowly pulling it up and down.

"Mmmm, that's so sweet, man, so fucking nice, you just don't know. Love the feel of you inside me, man…so huge, just splitting me wide open. Want to feel you come inside me, want to feel it shoot through me, all hot and wet-"

"Dean, touch yourself for me – wanna feel you come again." And Dean's hand covers his, both of them stroking him now and Dean's tensing up, ass clenching down on Sam's dick as he moves toward release.

He pulls Sam's hand up and down, gripping tight so Sam is squeezing his shaft, moving their hands faster now, dragging up and down in a dizzying blur, huffing and gasping out his breath, hips bucking, thrusting up into their palms and suddenly, he's stiffening, rigid and Sam feels the throb, the pulse as Dean explodes, pumping out his seed all over their hands and panting hard, his breathing out of control-

Sam's hand moves back to Dean's hip, sticky and wet and grips tight, and he's pushing up on Dean's hips, pulling out at the same time and slamming back in, hard and fast, the hot tight of Dean's channel gripping him like a second skin and he's climbing higher, higher, so sweet, he's tingling and jerking inside his flesh, God, feels so fucking good he can't stand it, In and out and Dean's ass just clings to him, opening up for him and then hugging around him, not wanting him to leave-

One more shove in and he's cresting, riding the wave, tide's coming in and _fuck, fuck_, he's coming so hard, he can't see, eyes tear-filled or sweat-filled, he doesn't know which but Sweet Christ, his body is still rocking with it, vibrating with it and finally, finally, he's spent, done, collapsing onto Dean's back in exhaustion.

He rests there until the feeling comes back into his legs and he can move again and he pulls out, helping Dean to stand and turning him around, ready to kiss, to hug and love-

The sardonic glint is back in those eyes, grinning up into Sam's face as Pan mutters, "You do the dance of love very well, brother. The vessel is well sated. I will return when I need more from you."

Sam jerks away like he's been slapped, "Give me Dean back, you fucking-"

And Pan waves his hand at Sam, "Sleep" and Sam drops like a stone, asleep in an instant.

Pan bends down and caresses his face with a light finger, "Your brother loves you very much. He is hard to repress because his love is so strong. I'm sorry I cannot return him to you but I must live and if I live, he cannot."

Sam rolls over with a snore, curling up into a ball and Pan stands up, retrieves his flute and disappears into the woods with a flutter of leaves.

*


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **My heartfelt apologies for the length of time that has passed between the posting of this and the last chapter. My muse has completely left me for this story and I'm really struggling with it, trying to get back in the swing of things. I apologize if the chapter sucks-I really tried.

A spoiler of sorts found its way to me via Buddy TV and led me to believe that I had to hurry up the ending of this before hellatus is over. I seriously think someone writing Supernatural is stealing my ideas!

The incantations and summoning spells are parts and pieces gleaned from several different installments on Khakani's Mystic World website and the gun cleaning instructions are from an ehow website.

Not so much Wincest here but a necessary chapter to end a particularly painful storyline. And just an FYI, I hate research and facts! Just putting that out there.

*

*

The night comes into the forest on soft paws, stealthy and sly, picking its way carefully across the moss covered ground.

Sam waits by the fire, watching as the dark seeps in heavy, curling around the trees, the twilight blurring and smudging the edges, the silence surrounding him almost eerie because there's not a sound, not a breath. The normal night creatures are quiet, the crickets, hoot owls, and peepers vanished and there's not even the flutter of wings from an errant bat to mar the total hush.

There's only the crackle of the fire that keeps the dark at bay, that breaks the stillness, the heat on his face and the smell of cedar ash the only reminder that this is real, not the fanciful dream state it feels like. The light from the flames play on the trees, dancing shadows on the ground as the sparks fly into the night, into the dark where they fizzle away as if they never were.

His voice, when he uses it, is rusty, hoarse against the air, "I know you're there."

The soundlessness presses in on him from all sides, heavy against his ribs and he _knows_.

Knows he's not alone, feels the eyes watching him, avid and feral, barely blinking as they follow his every move, trace the lines of his body as he sits, the hunger pulsing and vibrating across the air and he waits.

The prey stalking the predator this time and Sam shakes back his bangs, scanning the trees, the dark for any sign, any glimpse, the movement of a branch, the shine of eyes staring back at him, the sound of a twig snapping-

Nothing.

Without the fire, the world would be a vacuum, black hole in space and how the fuck is Pan silencing even the insects?

Ok, time to up the stakes.

Sam stands, shrugging off his jacket and tugging his t-shirt up and off, letting it fall to the ground. He turns in a slow circle, hand sliding over his bare abdomen and up to his chest and his voice is soft, languid, "Is this what you want? You need to come and take it 'cause I'm right here just waiting for you…"

The hushed void gets heavier, tense and Sam can feel the arousal throbbing into the air around him, can _smell_ it, and a sudden rush of wind blows back his hair, makes him squint against it and then it's gone as fast as it came, stillness surrounding him once again.

He turns, his skin picking with awareness, and he _feels_ the ravenous eyes boring a hole in his back now as he walks slowly towards the tent and stops, swinging back around to give the watcher one last look at his naked flesh before crawling into the tent.

Sam lights the lantern, turning the inside of the tent orange and yellow, flickering shadows playing against the walls and bouncing back. He shucks down his jeans and underwear, positions himself in front of the lamp and lets his hand stroke himself, a slow and lazy pull up, not wanting to reach orgasm but trying to hold out for a long as possible, just wanting to give a good show.

He's bait, after all.

*

**Two nights ago**

*

James finds Sam asleep on the forest moss, rousing him with difficulty, the stupor that still clouds his mind making his limbs heavy and useless and James's half-drags, half-carries Sam back to the cabin.

He lets Sam sleep it off until morning and, while he's making breakfast, the smell of strong, sweet coffee and frying bacon penetrates Sam's foggy slumber and he appears in the kitchen, rubbing his eyes awake, ravenously hungry. While Sam packs away enough food for three men, James chugs down hot coffee, picks at the bacon and shows Sam the finished translation from the parchment Pan's flute had been wrapped in.

Sam's eyes are dull because he's starting to lose hope that they'll ever get Dean back and he misses his brother, God damn it! He stares at the spell, dejected. "Great. Now we just gotta figure out how the hell we're going to use it when every time we turn around, Pan's got us fucking each other."

James dips his head, fingers tightening around the coffee mug, "Well, I actually had an idea about that…"

When Sam raises an eyebrow at him, James bites at his lip for a moment, uncertain if he should proceed and then letting it out in a rush of breath, "I'm thinking the only way to defeat a God is to enlist the help of another God. Maybe we should summon up another diety to keep Pan occupied while we bind his spirit back into the flute."

Sam chokes in surprise, swallowing the mouthful of egg before he spits it out all over the table, "And how in hell are we supposed to do that?"

James face is flushed, aware of how ridiculous a suggestion it is but pressing ahead anyway, "I don't know the _how_ of it, but I do know the _who. _Apollo's the perfect choice."

At Sam's confused look, James ticks off on his fingers, "Look, in his time, he was a great healer, known as the God of Light, and he would _always_ come when summoned, no matter what, so I'm thinking…if being asked for help is nothing new to him, maybe he'll come if _we_ ask him to. It was kind of his thing…he got off on helping people, especially the sick and down-troddened. Also, one of his other names, Alexicacus means 'restrainer of evil' and Pan's got a pretty evil twist to him, you have to admit, taking Dean over and not letting go of him so again, Apollo might really want to get his hand in this. Third thing is, there's no love loss between these two. In all of Greek mythology, Apollo was the only God to best Pan in a…well, I guess you could call it a musical pissing contest. Pan challenged Apollo to a competition, saying he was the best musician in all the land and Apollo kicked his ass by playing his lyre so well, Pan ended up looking like an idiot and victory was awarded to Apollo."

He gives a small shrug, continuing, "According to legend, Pan always wanted a rematch and it was a pretty good bet that Apollo was up for it, too. If you can figure out the how, we may be onto something."

Sam studies James with a new respect "When did you work all this out?"

James grins at him, "While you were snoozing on the forest floor."

Sam abruptly pushes back his plate of food and reaches for his cell phone, "Let me call Bobby."

*

*

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam hangs up the phone and turns to James, "Well, we can't summon a God to come help us but we can invite him, sending him up a 'prayer of request' and offer him something he wants. There's a ritual that has to be performed that I have to research and Bobby's trying to find us the appropriate wording for the prayer but we still have to figure out what Apollo wants and offer it to him. What do you know about him?"

James gives him a look like he's six kinds of an idiot and says, "I know a lot about him. Expert, remember? What exactly are you looking for?"

"Something that would appeal to him and entice him to help us, Bobby said. An object or desire that would please him…"

His forehead curled into a frown, James thinks out loud, "Well, he was shot in the ass with an arrow from Eros after Apollo insulted his archery skills and fell in love with the nymph Daphne but then Eros turned around and shot _her_ with an arrow that made Apollo repulsive to her. They never did get together because she was transformed into laurel tree, at her own request, to get away from Apollo." James dismisses it as quickly as he thinks it, "I really don't think we can get him Daphne. Maybe-"

At his silence, Sam prompts him, "Maybe what?"

James shakes his head, "I don't know…maybe we can offer him Pan's pipe? After we get him back into it, that is. It would be the ultimate insult to Pan and may be rather appealing to Apollo, to keep Pan caged up forever in the musical instrument he lost the contest with. Kinda like shoving Pan's nose in it, you know?"

Sam shrugs, "Well, it's worth a shot, anyway. Now we just have to wait for Bobby to get us that prayer-"

James finishes for him, "_And_ figure out a way to find Pan _and_ hold him long enough for Apollo to restrain him. Easy as pie, right?"

Sam exhales loudly, "There's no fucking way this is gonna work."

*

*

"It's gotta be you, Sam. He's got the hots for you because Dean's got the hots for you and he feels that. He's drawn to you above everyone else so you have to be the one to tempt him, get him to come to you and keep him busy until we can invite Apollo."

Sam shakes his head, "I think we need to invite Apollo first, ask him for the favor and then get Pan to come. If Apollo refuses to help us, we're fucked and then what are we gonna do?"

James bites at his fingernail, brain whirring furiously before he nods, "Agreed."

*

*

The flames of the black candles are the only glow in the darkened house, the shadows from the fire dancing high on the walls of James's living room, the oily smoke from the wax giving off a sickly sweet odor, cloying and heavy. The blue-orange light from the flickering tapirs play across James's face as he stares wide-eyed at Sam across the length of table, the thick cloth covering it etched with ancient symbols.

The light waxes and wanes around them and when Sam nods his head, James fumbles with his own matches, the smell of sulfur potent when he finally strikes one lit, the fragrance of cedar filling up the rest of the air as he waves the smoldering sticks over the candles. Into the circle of flames, Sam places a picture of Apollo with his lyre, the parchment from Pan's flute and one of Dean's fake IDs. He begins to chant the prayer Bobby gave him, James circling the incense wands over the center, letting the smoke curl around the picture, the scrap of leather and the square of plastic with Dean's face smiling at them.

_**I call upon the God of Light, the wondrous God of gracious sight**_

_**The healing heart so full of love come down to me from up above**_

With each word, the air grows heavy, oppressive, until it's pushing down on them with dense weight, pinning them to their chairs and James's eyes grow wider when he tries to stand and can't, starting to struggle but Sam shakes his head at him, telling him with his eyes to stay put and not fight.

It's hard to breathe now, though, the weight of the air pushing against their chests, and the smoke from the candles turns heavy, becomes a thick gray cloud, clogging their lungs. James starts to cough helplessly and Sam's eyes are burning, watering, his voice scratchy deep with hoarseness as he struggles to continue, gasping out the words over the harsh grip on his throat.

_**Apollo, God of healing grace come here to me, into this place**_

The smoke rolls across the table in waves, billowing out of the candle, engulfing both of them in a heavy curtain, disorienting and Sam squints through, trying to keep his gaze locked on James, _gotta make sure he's safe because he's not a hunter, he's a freaking college professor, doesn't know what he's getting into, doesn't know a freaking thing about all this stuff so gotta protect him-_

Sam's stumbling over the words, his throat closing down against the polluted air, can't get in a decent breath-

_**Across the time and distant land take the offering from my hand**_

Wheezing with the effort of trying to get out the last few words before his throat shuts down completely, Sam gives a weak cough over the soot in his lungs, staring at James who's turning red, full on hacking and looking like he's gonna pass out from lack of air any second now. Sam feels his vision start to cloud over, the absence of oxygen making him dizzy and unfocused, can barely read the words now, the air is so thick and dense-

_**I pray…for your strength…and might**_

He sees James go down, slumping over onto the floor and he reaches out, tries to catch him but he's too slow, too goddamn slow-

_**Invite you come to me…**_

Sam collapses down onto the table, managing to utter the last two words before he slides into unconsciousness.

…_**this night…**_

*

*

Sam jerks awake, coughing furiously, trying to clear the aching pressure from his lungs, and gratefully takes in a whooping breath of gloriously clean air. James is sitting across the table from him, unblinking stare, rigid posture, barely seeming to breathe and his voice, when he speaks, is ancient, dusty gravel and hot sun, eons of time carved into each intonation.

"Why have you called me?"

Sam doesn't know the proper procedure for asking a God's help, should he bow, genuflect or lower his head in respect? He opens his mouth to speak, to explain when the voice comes again, "Not with your words. Tell me with your mind." And James stretches across the table, laying a palm over Sam's eyes.

Fingers ripple through the card catalog in his mind, pausing and pulling out images, putting them back haphazardly, snatches of memories flashing bright then fading away, replaced with others, all his deep secrets exposed, examined and discarded with a grunt of distast, leaving Sam ripped wide open, humiliated.

Violated without a mark, without a trace.

The pressure on his eyes is gone but Sam won't look, Christ, he feels so fucking filthy-

"Look at me."

He fights against it but the voice is inside his skin, controlling him, raising his eyelids without his consent to seek out the man's face across the table.

"You need not feel ashamed. Your love for your brother is pure and sweet, its light heals both of you so it is necessary, required. Do not explain or defend it, not to anyone…it is yours and yours alone. You will need it to defeat Pan, to save your brother and if you feel guilt over it, you are useless to me. Do you understand?"

Control of his body is handed back over with a flickering of eyes and Sam raises his head high, back straight and shoulders squared. He takes in a deep breath of courage and the shame is gone, his love for Dean flowing back in, surging waves work through his heart until he's full with it, shining with it and he gives Apollo a curt nod.

"Excellent. Here is what we must do."

*

*

He smells Sam as soon as he enters his forest.

The potent musk of the brother's sweat slicked flesh, heated and aroused, calls to him, rolling in his nostrils and waking up his nether regions and he waves a hand, immediately silencing the creatures in the woods. He wants to hear the frantic patter of Sam's heart, the sharp inhale and exhale of breath as Sam pushes down his fear, willing himself calm and keeping a tight reign on his emotions. And when Sam hears the curtain of silence fall over the forest, his panic shines through, just for a moment, terror surging up as he searches the trees for the cause, eyes flicking and darting fast and frantic. The roar of blood surging through Sam's veins, the quickening thud beating under Sam's ribs, it's music to Pan's ears and he can _smell_ Sam's fright, taste it on his tongue, it's pungent, sticky sweet and black and the God hungers for more, so much more-

He swings silently through the trees, hidden in the foliage, comfortable in the night, in the branches, trailing behind as Sam carries a thick sack on his back and another in his hand. He follows closely, sniffing after Sam's scent in the still air, the flavor sending licks of arousal into his loins and when Sam stops in a small clearing to set up camp, Pan settles down on his haunches on a low branch to watch.

He stares in growing lust at the smooth back muscles, the strong biceps, the thighs that strained with effort as Sam sets up the tent, carries rocks to make a fire pit and wood to build a fire. When Sam tugs over a heavy log to sit on, bent over low with his backside in the air, it's all Pan can do not to jump down and take him right there, shove Sam down on top of that log, rip off his pants and thrust his member deep inside Sam's sweet hole, making the brother cry out in pain and delight.

He gets himself under control with difficulty, pushing down a palm against his hard length and biting down on his lips to calm his ardor, watching Sam stack the wood into a pyre and lighting it with a stick of flame. Pan allows it, letting the wood burn so the brother will have warmth and light against the darkness, feeling an odd benevolence towards Sam that he's never felt before for anyone, human or beast. It confuses him, he doesn't want it inside him because it clouds his judgment and dulls his senses and he's sure it's coming from the other brother, the iron will of the man almost impossible to suppress.

It takes up almost all of Pan's energy just to keep Dean back, away because even though he's possessed this man's body for days now, Dean will not stop fighting him. Normal humans would have given up within the first day, understanding that the will of a God can never be challenged and there would be no salvation for them, nothing left for them but to let go, slide away into the darkness and never return.

But not this man.

If anything, Dean's will gets stronger with each defeat, with each insurmountable cliff Pan puts in his way and he's stubborn as an ass, a formidable rock of suppressed fury and he absolutely will not quit.

He won't let Pan hurt Sam. Pan understands this absolutely, unequivocally that if he tries, Dean will stop him. He found that out the last time he coupled with Sam. Sam had insisted he let Dean out and he had, to a certain extent but Dean hadn't wanted to, had resisted so it was Dean's voice, Dean's words but Pan drove it, drove it all, gleaning the nickname Dean had for Sam from his memories, quickly riffling through their recent past to act accordingly, to respond to Sam like Dean would.

But, when he'd wanted to push Sam away from bringing him to orgasm, when he'd been ready to turn Sam around and shove into him hard and fast, wanting to hear him scream, Dean had stopped him.

Pan still couldn't believe it, that a mere human had managed to come between him and what he desired. Dean had somehow taken over, taken control, and pushed his climax forward, caressing Sam's head instead of pushing it away and let the precious seed be wasted in Sam's mouth.

Stunned, shocked at the power of Dean's will, Pan had been too surprised at the shift in possession to react and Dean had pressed ahead, asking Sam to take him, fondling Sam's hardness, whispering words of love and letting himself be spun around and bent over. Pan's curiosity got the better of him then, wanting to know what it would be like on the receiving end of Sam's arousal and at the first lick of tongue around his opening, he was lost in a sea of desire, coming together with Dean, both spirits moving as one, breathing as one. When Sam had shoved inside him, the pain of it was almost unbearable, so hot, so bright his first reaction was to yank the brother off with his mind and throw him back into a tree, breaking him. Dean clamped down on him, holding him hostage until they breathed together, relaxed together and slowly, gradually, the burn had changed to warmth, curling through the body and something inside was flicking bright spots of color, of electricity through him, building in him. When Sam had reached around to pull on his shaft, it was like fireworks bursting through and he rode the wave with Dean, thrusting into Sam's palm with abandon, the hardness filling him from behind too much, too sharp and he (they) broke, spilling seed everywhere, sanity lost in the pleasure.

Dean had been lulled, relaxed and Pan seized the opportunity, swooped in, caged the defiant spirit and pushed him back, slammed him down into the dark recesses and regained control.

The lesson had been learned, however. If Pan tries to hurt Sam, somehow, someway, Dean will stop him.

Pan pricks up his ears as Sam speaks out loud, speaking to him but Pan remains motionless, barely breathing and when Sam stands, strips off his shirts and taunts him with words, his hardness is swift, his frustration crawling on his skin like ants and he wants to have the brother, rough and fierce, take Sam's breath away with his plunging shaft and make him swallow his mocking tone with whimpers and gasps.

He swings silently to the ground when Sam goes into the tent and moves closer, close enough that he can smell the brother's sex, hear the slick slap of hand on flesh-

The brother is touching himself.

He can see his shadow clearly, larger than life, hand sliding down his sleek torso, over the hard stomach and down to the jut of phallus, so hard, so erect that Pan feels the spit gather in his mouth, imaging the taste of it, the feel of it. He reaches a rough palm down to his own length, dragging and pulling the skin until his back arches with pleasure.

Sam's voice is contemptuous, scornful, "Come on, you fuck. Here I am…come and get me…"

And he edges closer to the tent, watching the shadow stroke himself, the soft gasps of lust sending him over the edge of control and before he knows it, he's inside, mouth gaping open as he stares at the beautiful body in front of him and Sam's eyes flash hatred, glittering at him in the flickering lamplight, hand smoothing down on velvet skin, so red and engorged, it's almost throbbing at him-

"You want some of this?" Sam's voice is a hiss of seduction, teeth clenched in an effort to hold back and Pan nods, reaches behind to take out his flute-

"No!" Sam's reaction is sudden, harsh, "No fucking music, no fucking magic. Just you and me."

Pan's fingers tremble over the pipes, unsure. With no melody to bind Sam to him, it will be free will and he knows about humans, they are tricksters and liars, untrustworthy and if the brother is anything like Dean, he is cunning, sly and will stop at nothing to capture him, best him.

Sam gives a nasty chuckle and dares Pan, his voice full of contempt, of disdain, "What's the matter, can't get your dick up without some supernatural help? Need to hypnotize someone to get laid?" He shakes his head, "What's your real dick look like anyway? Must be small if you gotta take over my brother's just to get you some-Aaahh-"

With a cry of rage, Pan attacks, the anger that's been simmering inside his gut at the brother's blatant disrespect, his arrogant insolence boiling over, and he flexes his mind, throwing Sam backwards and pinning him to the sleeping bag, arms and legs stretched akimbo, erection straight up like a flagpole.

A proper offering for a God.

"Let me the fuck _up_, you son of a b-" Sam bellows and a wave of Pan's hand silences the barrage, binding Sam's lips shut as Pan crawls over to him, kneels between his legs and runs a sharp thumbnail down the sensitive underside, Sam's phallus jerking and bobbing with reaction. He cups Sam's scrotum, rolling the balls in his palm, earning a moan with each flex of his fingers and he bends his head, inhaling Sam's scent deep into him before tonguing the length of the velvet flesh, sliding up to the tip and circling around, letting his tongue flick back and forth across the slit and just underneath. Sam's hips buck up into him, sensual movement so hot, so delicious that Pan almost forgets his anger but no-

The brother must be punished. Impudence cannot be condoned.

Before Dean can stop him, Pan flips Sam's body over with his mind, reaches towards the belt still curled in Sam's jeans and pulls it out, through the air. He curls his hand into a fist, nails digging into his palm and the belt rolls and snaps, coming down on Sam's back with a loud slap of flesh, leaving a red welt behind.

Sam's head tosses back and he grunts in pain, unable to yell because his mouth is sealed shut but puffing out breath through his nose, trying to gasp through it. Pan lands three more slashes to Sam's flesh before Dean comes roaring to life and they grapple for control, the belt falling harmlessly to the side, Sam's mouth finally working as Pan loses his grip and he rolls away, crying out with the sharp pain in his back.

*

*

Holy shit, Pan's having some sort of seizure, Sam thinks dazedly as he watches the figure pull and claw at himself, raking long red lines down his throat and chest. Sam scoots back, hoping to hell that James is taking care of shit before Pan comes back to himself and decides Sam needs more of a beating. Jesus, his back is on fucking fire and he'd been unprepared-he'd expected Pan to _fuck_ him, not to whip him and it hurt like a mother-

Pan collapses, head hanging down near his knees, back bowed as if under an incredible weight, breath panting out in stuttered gasps and when he raises his head, his eyes are bright, victorious and he smiles at Sam, motioning with a finger towards the belt and it raises up, snapping a sharp blast into the air, making Sam flinch away, raising an arm to cover his face in defense.

They both hear it at the same time-

The thrum of music just outside the tent, the strings of a lyre plucked and stroked with graceful fingers, a rich tune, melancholy and comfort, sharp notes with soft undertones works its way towards their ears through the still night air. Sam feels it in his bones, images of concubines and masters, lovers and orgies swirling through his brain and it makes him hard, rock hard in an instant, wanting his brother like he never has before and the pain in his back is sharper, more intense, adding to his arousal and he drops his arm, rising up towards Pan's belt, welcoming the sting of it-

The lash never comes. Pan's back is rigid, eyes disbelieving, fingers clenching and unclenching at the forlorn melody plunking and humming around them, "No. NO! It can't be-"

"PAN! Come out and face me, you cloven hoofed heathen! All these centuries you've wanted to try your hand at me again! Lo, here I stand so come, let me trounce you again with the strings of my lyre for my music can charm the very rocks themselves. You and I both know that I am the best of us in all heaven and earth!"

Pan is out of the tent in an instant and Sam yanks up his pants and underwear, bounding outside right behind him. Pan is still wearing Dean's jeans, the pipes stuffed into his back pocket and his dick is hanging out the front, unnoticed by either God.

"Apollo, it _is_ you. How have you come to be here? Who summoned you?"

"That's not your concern. Shall we play?" And Apollo, in James's skin holds the lyre to his chest, strumming across it.

"You will just play it upside down again, just to best me. You know I can't play my syrinx on my head-"

"Ah-" Apollo laughs heartily, "I had forgotten. I cede you that point, flute-player. I will stay on my feet."

At once Pan yanks his pipes out of his pocket, putting them to his lips and gives Apollo an evil grin, "Then we play."

As soon as he blows across the pipes, Sam starts chanting in a sing-song tone, desperately trying to shut out the sounds of the flute that dance and sway on the air. He keeps his voice low so Pan won't hear, almost incoherent, but his tone grows in volume with each repetition, words becoming distinct and clear, until they're echoing in the forest around them.

_**By basilisk and bloodstone, by the garlic in the fields  
by the poppies and what they yield, invisibly I make my shield  
to detect thee and deflect thee, I banish thee, I banish thee**_

_**Back into the chamber from whence thy came**_

_**Return and be bound, I erase thy name**_

_**I cut the cord and unlock the chain-Back into the chamber from whence thy came.**_

Sam struggles to control his lust, that fucking flute making him so horny, so goddamn _hard_ that he can barely think, barely focus on what he's supposed to be doing because all he has right now are images in his brain of Dean's skin on his, Dean's hot mouth sliding on his dick and _Christ,_ he just needs to fill his mind with something, anything to stop that insidious music from tickling into his brain-

_Dean…Dean teaching him how to clean a pistol…remove the magazine, make sure it's empty, remove the barrel, push the cleaning brush through the barrel in the direction the bullet travels, soak the cleaning rod with solvent and pass it through the barrel five times… _

He stumbles to his feet and begins to circle the two entities, the lodestone that James had lain down while Sam was keeping Pan busy in the tent effectively binding the two Gods inside. His breath is closed up into a tight fist in his chest and he's steamy, so fucking turned on but he can't touch himself, can't let go of the thread he's clinging to because if he so much as brushes against his dick, it'll be all over, he'll be falling to his knees and jerking himself to orgasm.

_Clean the slide and frame with solvent, use Q-tips to clean the grooves and rails…_

He chants the words over and over.

_**I cut the cord and unlock the chain-Back into the chamber from whence thy came.**_

Finally, it's Apollo's turn to play and thank_ Christ_ because Sam almost broke with the last few notes, catching himself just shy of rubbing on his rock hard dick and he can't take much more of this-

The strumming of the lyre flutters over him, soothes his soul, tames the fire in his loins and he takes a deep breath, echoing the incantation as fast as he can.

_**I cut the cord and unlock the chain-Back into the chamber from whence thy c-**_

Suddenly, Pan whips his head around, eyes gleaming with hatred, with betrayal at Sam and there's a jolt of fear in Sam's gut, _he knows_, _he knows,_ before Pan lifts his hand, flicks it at him and Sam is thrown backwards into the trees, back hitting hard, knocking out his breath, the pain of impact searing through his body. He's pulled forward and dashed back again, smashing into the pines with a sickening thud, the hard wood busting ribs and smashing vertebrae-

_**I c-cut the cord and-**_

The third time he's yanked forward and slung back, his neck snaps and he goes numb instantly, can't feel his arms and legs anymore and his mouth doesn't know enough to stop, still hissing out the mantra even while his body is collapsing into a boneless heap, paralyzed, bleeding internally and as close to death as he's ever been, thinking only of Dean, and wishing he could have seen his brother one more time before-

Wishing he could taste Dean's lips just once more-

_**-unlock the chain-**_

His vision is blurring, foggy and he's far away now, cloudy gray and light, floating almost and he gives one last hitch of breath-

_**Back into the chamber-**_

-And gives in, letting death take him.

*

*

"Sam! Sammy!" The world is shaking, dark and God, he's blind, blind and there's an earthquake or something-

"Open your eyes, Sam!" And he pries his eyelids up, so heavy, Christ, he's so tired and Dean is looming over him, shaking his shoulders to rouse him.

He pushes at Dean's hands weakly, "Lemme sleep, man-" and then realization hits, memory floods through and he's sitting up, grasping at Dean's arms, "Dean! Is that really you? Are you-?"

Dean nods grimly, "Yup, it's me. Pan's gone, thank Christ cause my dick, man…hurts like hell…he spent most of his time yanking on it-"

Sam laughs at that, giddy almost that Dean's back and here and okay and then-

"Wait, I…what the hell? Did I-?" He searches his memory, "I remember feeling like I was gonna die and then, there's just a dark hole of…nothing."

Dean runs a hand over his hair, "Yeah, you died alright, at least that's what Apollo told me. He brought you back to life, after Pan was bound back into his pipes. You did it, Sam. You managed to say enough of the binding spell to get his spirit back into the flute but not before he broke you up pretty good, the son of a bitch. Apollo said you wouldn't give up, you just kept repeating the fucking thing over and over again, even after he broke your neck…"

Dean wipes his palm over his eyes, the pain in them evident at the words he just spoke, "Jesus Christ, Sammy…he broke your neck, man…and you did all of this just to save me. You fucking idiot, you're not supposed to sacrifice yourself for me, you know that! I should kick your ass. Come on, let me help-"

Sam groans as Dean pulls him upright and tries to smile, "What, you're the only one who gets to die around here? Once more and I get a hat trick, dude and fuck, my back hurts like hell."

"Ok, fine, I'll wait 'till you're better before I kick your ass." And Dean loops Sam's arm around his shoulder, helping him walk forward with tentative steps until he gets his sea legs. Sam sees James standing there, watching him, holding Pan's flute and when they're standing in front of him, James tilts his head, admiration in his voice.

"You did well, Sam. You should be proud of your strength and your iron will, it was the only thing that saved your brother. It would be an honor to serve you again."

And Sam's words are earnest, "I can't thank you enough for your help. It would be an honor to serve _you_, if you ever have a need of me."

Apollo looks down at his lyre and plucks a string from it, snapping it off and handing it over to Sam, "Strum it if you need my help. It is time I take my leave."

And with a gust of wind, a swirl of pine needles, he is gone and James collapses to the ground, gasping and shaking, staring around him in confusion.

*

**The next day**

*

Dean throws the duffle bags into the trunk, turning to stare back at Sam and James before climbing into the driver's seat, restlessly waiting, drumming his fingers on his knee and staring at the two men in the rear view mirror. Sam shakes James's hand and slaps him on the back before he's heading over to Dean, head down so Dean can't read his face and he starts the car, letting it idle so it covers the silence with noise when Sam gets in the car.

"Ready." Sam says and looks over at Dean.

Dean studies his face, narrows his eyes at Sam, searching for truth and Sam starts to say something, maybe his name but Dean yanks his gaze away, shoves the car into gear and stomps on the gas, roaring out of the driveway and onto the road.

"Dean? Are you ok?" Sam's voice is worried, anxious.

Is he ok? Christ, how's he supposed to answer that one? He'd seen his brother jerking another guy off, watched his brother have sex with someone that wasn't him (twice), even though it was his body technically but it wasn't _him_ and damn it, Sam should have _known_ that, knew that it wasn't Dean like he knew his own name and-

"No, Sam. I'm not ok, not at all."

*

*


	7. Chapter 7

*

*

The silence between them festers and roils, polluting the air in the car with thick tension.

Sam feels the weight of it pressing in on him and he watches Dean in his peripheral vision, his brother's movements jerky and erratic, one second his fingertips are drumming a beat on the steering wheel, and the next, he's clenching at it so tight, his knuckles are bone white.

"Dean?" the whisper barely hitches the air but Dean hears, flicking his eyes over to Sam's and then away.

"Yeah?"

"Can we-" Sam swallows hard, clearly he's pissed Dean off somehow, it's screaming across the seat at him with every line of Dean's stiff body but he can't help, can't fix things unless Dean tells him what's going on, "Can we talk?"

Dean's lower lip trembles and his eyes fall, almost slide over to Sam's and then he catches himself, jerks his gaze back straight ahead and his mouth clamps into a hard slash, slicing one word out and no more, "No."

Dean's hand hits the radio, cranking it up as loud as he can and Quiet Riot thumps through the car, shaking the windows and Sam feels it vibrating through the seat under his ass.

_Seriously, what the hell?_ It's like time's gone backwards, reversed and Dean's just like he was _before_, closed down and locked up tight, like everything they've gone through, everything they've said to each other is a figment of his imagination.

Worse than strangers now.

Sam bites back the sob that's threatening to overwhelm him because his goddamn brother has shut him out _again_, slammed the door and hammered the nails home, and Sam is so freaking _tired_, the past week of trying to save Dean has taken its toll and he just can't-

Can't find the energy to fight Dean for Dean anymore.

It's not fair.

He'd saved Dean, been through hell, barely sleeping or eating, letting himself be used as a sex toy to get Dean back from that asshole Pan, _died_ for him, for Christ's sake, and for what? Not even a thank you or good job or anything.

And even though he's trying not to think about it, the sour bitch in him wants to know why the fuck Dean hasn't kissed him or touched him since he's been freed. Ok, so James had been there for part of the time but still-

They could've stolen a moment or two, to reconnect, let each other know they were _there_ and still loved-

But, no…after his initial relief at Sam's being alive, all he'd gotten from Dean was brooding silences and hurt looks and Sam doesn't know what the _fuck_ anymore.

The desperation is crowding in on him, curls around his gut, and frustration hits him hard because for the life of him, Sam can't understand _why_.

On top of that, he's off-center in his own skin, tilting to the left and something's been gnawing at his belly for days, just off perspective and he can't identify it. He worries at it, pushing and pulling at his memories, going over every second since Dean got possessed but can't find a freaking thing he did wrong, that wasn't done out of love for his stupid brother.

He looks over at Dean again, at the stony jaw and distant eyes and feels a tired nudge of strength stir in him, gathering energy with each passing mile and it pulls the edges of his courage up by its bootstraps, causing Sam to sit up straighter and take in a deep breath, mentally rolling up his sleeves and ready to go another round. _Ok, Dean, one more time we'll do this dance._

A sign flashes past, Rest Stop Ahead and Sam abruptly reaches out to twist off the radio, Dean's angry glare hits him with both barrels but Sam doesn't flinch, doesn't cave, just firms his jaw and shoots back, "Pull over at that rest stop, Dean. We're gonna talk."

The harsh voice is commanding, brooking no argument, "No, Sam. We're not."

But Sam's not gonna let this go any further, "Dean. You stop the fucking car or so help me, God, I'll make you stop it!"

The fury in Dean's eyes wavers uncertainly and then giving a _fuck it _shrug, Dean pulls off the road, parking in front of a dilapidated building, broken vending machines and bent rest room signs the only indication of why it's even here. Picnic tables and barbeque grills dot the field surrounding the structure and the highway behind keeps up a steady hum as truckers roar past on their way to big cities.

Dean's out the door and striding away before Sam can say a word and he sits, watches his brother stomp stiff-legged towards the trees, his own temper gathering in his gut, pooling heavy and dark inside him and he needs to push it back, keep it down because picking a fight now will only make Dean shut down further.

He follows Dean to the picnic area, the tall pine trees surrounding them covering the sky, darkening the day under the foliage. _Why's it_ _always pine trees_? The thought trickles through the back of Sam's mind as he studies his brother's rigid stance, shoulders hunched up to his ears and he knows Dean's gearing up for a slugging match and _might not be such a bad idea right about now-_

He drops a hand on Dean's shoulder, swinging his brother around to face him, locking eyes, "Dean-"

Dean shoves at his hand, clearly furious and snapping the words out like he wants to bite something "What the fuck do you want from me, Sam?"

"I want-" Sam starts hotly and stops, takes a breath and tries again in a calmer tone, "To know why you're not talking to me, why you're not looking at me, why you're _gone_ from me…"

Dean looks away, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot, jamming hands deep into his pockets, "I _can't,_ Sam, ok?"

"Can't what? Dean, for Christ's sake-" and when Dean turns away again, Sam reaches out, wrenching him back, "Fucking _talk_ to me-"

And Dean's hands are suddenly clenched in his shirt and he's being shoved backwards hard, fast, almost falling on his ass before he hits into something big and unyielding, making him cry out in pain because the welts on his back are still raw and sore.

Shit, that fucking hurts!

He's gripping Dean's arms, holding him back as best he can but Dean's still too close, breath huffing on his face, eyes glittering and mouth pulled tight with rage, spitting out the words, "God damn it, Sam! I can't get it out of my freaking head, ok? You were jacking off another guy, you had your hand on someone else's _cock_ and you were rubbing your dick on his leg like a fucking dog in heat!"

Sam feels the bottom fall out of his stomach, elevator plunging from the top floor down and he can't speak for a moment, bewildered because Dean was _there_, Dean should _know_-

"It was the flute, Dean! You know that! You above all people should know that!"

Dean's mouth twists with scorn, "Oh, yeah, the flute! Let's talk about that, huh? Seems funny that I managed to get out of there without pulling out James's dick but you…nope, you couldn't help yourself, could you? Maybe because you wanted to be with him the whole time and the flute gave you a reason, a fucking excuse!"

And like a key sliding into a lock, there it is.

_That's_ what's been eating at Sam this whole time…he hadn't been as strong as Dean, hadn't been able to _resist_-

The truth of it hits him hard, leaves Sam struggling to cope, to deal, his weakness an unforgivable sin in his own eyes and no wonder Dean can't get over this – Sam can't get past it either-

But, Dean can't really believe the shit he's spouting, can he? Sure, Sam had been weak and pathetically susceptible to Pan's flute, yes but choosing James over Dean? Never, absolutely not and Sam's hanging onto his temper by a thread, not wanting to open his mouth because it's gonna spill out and Dean'll shut right down, not giving Sam a chance in hell of getting his freaking hard headed brother to listen.

"Dean-" Sam's throat closes up and he tries again, pushing himself because he has to reach Dean, tell him how it really is, "Dean, that's not true and you know it! You fucking _know_ it, man!"

"I don't know anything anymore, Sam. But maybe if you had been strong enough to resist, none of this would've happened! And now look where we are, huh?"

"Oh, wait, so, it's my fucking fault you blew into the pipe and got possessed? Great. Anything else you want to lay on me?"

"You were with him, every day and night while Pan was in me, we watched you from the woods. You kept the shades drawn most of the time so we couldn't see in and I gotta wonder, Sam…just what did you and he _do_ during that time? You sure seemed awful goddamn chummy just now when you were saying good bye and he told me point blank he was gonna try to get you back." Dean's eyes flick to his and away, not wanting to know the answer but driven to ask anyway, "Did he?"

That's it. Sam's temper boils over, can't even give a response to that because it's so ridiculous and stupid and he shoves Dean back, yelling out the words into Dean's face, "Fuck you, Dean!"

And Sam turns away, clenching his fists and rolling his shoulders to ease the knots clenching there, breathing out his anger, _and his guilt_, trying desperately not to slug his idiot brother into next week.

But Dean's not done, whipping him around with a hand on his arm, "No, fuck you, Sam! I find you with some guy's dick in your hands and I'm just supposed to forget it? You did Pan twice and I guess I should just wipe that outta my head, too?

"That was you, Dean!" Confusion colors Sam's voice because Dean _knows_ that so what the fuck is he talking about?

"No, it wasn't! I was inside, I could watch but it wasn't me! Pan controlled the whole thing and you didn't even know, couldn't even tell the difference between us-" The look of hurt, of pain flashing in those green eyes cuts Sam to the quick.

"Wait, just wait-" Sam needs to think, quickly running through every second of that time, "Dean, the first time, you had my dick in your mouth so fast, the only thing I could think about was how good your fucking tongue felt on me so yeah, ok, wasn't operating on all cylinders right then. Never even _occurred_ to me that you were being possessed by some God because you blew into his flute! So, yeah, dropped the ball on that one!" Sam lets sarcasm drip through his voice, "And the second time, it _was_ you! Until the end, anyway-"

"It wasn't me, Sam! It was Pan, the whole time and you didn't even know." Dean's voice cracks and breaks with the words, "How could you not know, Sammy?"

Sam hears his own voice, edging on panic, trying to tell Dean how it _was_, "It was you! It had to be…he talked like you, said things you would say. Why would he-"

"To get your guard down, you stupid son of a bitch! And it worked because the minute you thought it was me, you went right along with it and he was gonna hurt you, was gonna rape you and I managed to stop him but it took all my strength. I kept screaming at you not to listen, that it wasn't me but your dick was pulling you along by the nose and you just let it lead-"

"No…" Sam stares at Dean, shaking his head in denial but in his gut, he knows Dean wouldn't lie to him, not about this and why _hadn't_ he known it wasn't Dean? Was he so caught up in himself that he had missed something he should have seen, overlooked a clue that it really wasn't Dean?

Guilt slams in, crouching on his heart, claws digging into the thick layer already heavy there, and the weight of it is hunching his back, twisting his features into a hurting mask, "Dean, I'm…sorry, I…didn't know."

The look on Dean's face mirrors his own, arm limp at his sides, shoulders slumped in defeat, "Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

Silence.

Sam's hands flail out, palming the air, "So what now?"

"I wish to Christ I knew, Sam." And Dean stares away from him, into the trees, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

*

The color of guilt is black, shame a deep hurting red, and he closes his eyes against it because it's smothering him and he can't stand to be in his own skin anymore.

Dean's right.

Sam _should_ have been able to resist James and why the hell hadn't he? The minute Dean said it, Sam knew. It's been chewing at him since Dean got possessed, undefined and shadowed but there, a constant twist to his gut and the bitch is, he probably _could_ have found the strength but-

He _owed_ James.

He'd used him, abused his trust and taken all the love James had to give and returned non of it, selfish and self-absorbed, so caught up with loving Dean that he hadn't seen the wounds he so casually inflicted-

Until the end, until he'd told James the truth.

Sam searches his heart and he knows why it happened, why he couldn't resist. Because it made James happy and Sam had a debt to pay. He'd kissed James for the same reason and now, they were even, account closed, paid in full but the price-

Dean had been ripped apart in the process, his trust in Sam shredded and his love-

He'd buried that deep inside, so far under that Sam couldn't even see it anymore and the cold in Dean's eyes would haunt him to his dying day.

There's nothing he can do to make this right, nothing he can say to make it better. He loves his brother heart and soul but it's not enough and how can he expect Dean to forgive him when he can't forgive himself?

*

Sam can't get comfortable.

His freaking back hurts like hell, the flare of pain from the whipping is new and fresh again from being slammed into hard tree bark and he keeps moving from one butt cheek to the other, twisting and resettling, trying to keep his back off the seat and finally cups a hand around his knee and pulls himself forward, holding himself stiffly.

"Sammy, what's wrong?"

Sam glances at Dean and then away, shrugging and staring back out the window, "Nothing."

"You're wiggling around like you got ants in your pants. What is it?"

Sam just shakes his head, "I said it's nothing. Forget it."

Dean gives a sigh "Ok." And he's checking the rear-view mirror, slowing down and pulling off the road, turning narrowed eyes to Sam "Wanna try that again?"

Sam searches Dean's face for compassion, for love but there's only detachment, a cold emptiness that wraps around Sam's spine and chills him to the bone, making him grit down against his pain and he presses his lips together stubbornly. He'll be damned before he says one fucking word to Dean about his freaking back-

Sam turns away to look out the window, feeling the sting of tears, a wave of self-pity rolling over him, and he manages to choke out, "Just drive, Dean."

Dean's hand is on his shoulder, pushing him forward, dragging up his shirt and Sam gives a hiss of pain as the cotton is pulled up, over his skin.

"Jesus, Sam!" Dean's fingers touch gently, almost tenderly and Sam jerks away, pushes away his brother's hand.

His voice is angry, "Don't, Dean. Just don't. I don't need your fucking pity."

And Sam tries to pull his shirt back down but Dean gives an exasperated noise and shoves it back up again, "Let me _see_!"

"That's from your belt? When Pan hit you?" Sam feels him trace a particularly sore spot, "What is that, a buckle mark?"

Wordlessly, Sam stares out the window, giving a curt nod.

Dean pulls down his shirt carefully before gunning the car back onto the highway, glancing over at Sam with a curt nod, "We'll find a place to hole up, ice your back and give you a couple of days to heal. Keep an eye out for a motel."

*

*

Dean gets a room with two double beds.

Sam stares at them dully, like twin slaps in the face, drilling home that everything's changed, everything's broken and shit, they haven't slept apart since they became lovers-

Dean's behind him, nudging him in the leg with a duffle and Sam goes two steps forward, enough so that Dean can sidestep around Sam's bulk, throwing his bag onto the first bed before bee-lining it to the bathroom.

And Sam is alone, the twist of hurt in his gut almost physical and he shuffles in, slamming the door shut and tosses his bag onto the other bed, sits down hard on the edge of it, shoulders dejected and mouth slack-

He rubs his hands along his jeans, sees the tremble in them and doesn't even want to know what this means, can't face it because it hurts too much-

And _shit_, this is when he needs Dean the most-

When Dean comes out, Sam doesn't look up, scared to meet his brother's eyes for fear he'll break down into a blubbering fool so he stays his course, eyes tracing a stain on the dirty carpet and listens to the movement in the room.

The door opens, closes and opens again a minute later, Dean coming to his side, voice brusque and commanding "Take off your shirt, Sam."

He feels the trembling in his gut, _storm's a-coming_, and doesn't want to move because the tears are _right there_, burning at the back of his eyelids and making his vision all smeary and he's breathing hard, fists clenched and swallowing fast, _can't break down, can't let it out-_

All he wants to do right at this moment is bury himself in Dean's stomach, hug him close and beg Dean to love him again and he grits his teeth and firms his jaw because there's no way in hell he's gonna humble himself like that-

Sam doesn't look up, just tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, letting his arms fall back into his lap, sitting quietly while Dean puts a cold, wet ice pack on the worst of his welts, holding it there for while he checks for breaks in the skin-

Out of nowhere, Dean's voice comes soft and low, dazed, almost, by the glimpse of memory, "You liked it when he did this-"

Sam shakes his head, not sure he heard right and he's twisting his gaze to catch Dean's but Dean won't look at him, eyes trained on his back as he adjusts the ice bag over another slash.

"W-what did you say?" Sam's voice is haggard, breathless.

Dean pulls in a deep breath, his eyes flicking to Sam's and then away, his voice casual, matter-of-fact, "I saw you, Sam, saw your eyes…at first it hurt you and I fought for you, fought to stop him but Pan pushed me back and then…I saw the look on your face, you were--hungry for it. You-you wanted it, wanted him to hit you again-"

Then Dean's eyes slide down and lock onto his, freezing him in place, searching for truth and Sam's drowning in the intense glare, pinned to the wall like a bug under inspection and Dean's whispered words are as loud as if he'd shouted them across the room, "You liked it, Sammy. Didn't you?"

Sam's trembling with denial, mouth bone-dry, eyes scratchy from not blinking and his heart, shit, it's hummingbird fast and he tries to laugh it off but what comes out is a choked whimper, pathetic as it breaks across the air, "No. No, I-"

And his words trail away because the knowing look on Dean's face kills the lie on his lips before he finishes uttering it, Dean's awful hiss "I was _there_, Sam." slices through raw and deep, rips him open and leaves him exposed.

Dean _knows_.

But not all of it, doesn't know the _worst_ of it-

Sam can barely admit to himself, gasping with it, shoving it away because no, that's not right, it hurt like hell, and he didn't _want_ it-

He grits his teeth on the words, forces them out harsh and clear so there's no mistake, no misunderstanding, "No, Dean. Didn't want it, didn't like it. _Needed it._ Needed it so fucking bad-"

And he's up, pulling on his shirt and across the room in seconds, scooping up the motel key and blowing through the door, slamming it behind him, shutting off the narrowed eyes, the shrewd gaze that sees too much, knows him too well-

*

*

He doesn't go back until after dark and then he's stumbling drunk, the office manager having directed him to a hole in the wall Bar N Grill two miles down the way where he'd hustled some pool, played some darts and cried into his beer along with some of the saddest fucking Country Western music he's ever heard.

Dean's curled up into a ball underneath the blankets, doesn't move when Sam falls through the door and he _tries_ to be quiet but the room is unfamiliar and he kicks the waste basket with a boot, the metal crash of it loud in the silent room. The light is flicked on and Dean is sitting up, staring at him with wild middle-of-the-night eyes and Sam puts a finger to his lips, hushing Dean so that Dean won't wake up and frowning because thinking about that is too damn hard right now-

"Are you fucking drunk, Sam?" the harsh voice tells him he should be ashamed, apologetic but the whiskey singing through his blood has other thoughts and he giggles at the thunderous frown Dean's directing at him.

"Gee, Dean, lemme see-" and he pokes himself in the face, yup, numb all over and he nods, agreeing wholeheartedly, "Yes, fucking drunk."

"What the hell, Sammy?" Dean's eyes are burning into him and Sam feels disassociated, head separated from his body and before he knows it, he's slumped down on the foot of Dean's bed, breathing heavy through his mouth so he doesn't throw up all over his brother and staring at Dean's chest, bare and smooth, in the lamp light. And he's fighting against the impulses rushing through him, just wants to touch, that's all, one touch isn't going to hurt anything, right? Just wants to trace a line over that nipple there, the one that's stiffening up for him, begging for a finger to flick it-

He gropes along Dean's body, hands heavy and clumsy, palm spreading hot across the chest and ribs, stroking and petting and Dean's breath catches in his throat at the touch, goose flesh pulling up tight against his fingers, twitching with raw nerve endings as he caresses the ribs and belly.

"Dean, need-"

"No. No, Sam. Stop." And his hand is stilled, grabbed up tight in a clench of iron but Sam keeps going, leaning forward, falling onto Dean, into his neck, grasping and sucking against the soft skin of his neck, inhaling his scent and Jesus, so fucking _good_ that Sam wants to devour him, right here, right now, it's too much, no one should smell that goddamn sweet-

And Dean's pushing him off, hands on his face to shove him away and he grabs Dean's head, holding him tight, finding his lips and sucking them into a drunken, sloppy kiss, parting the delicious lips and slathering in his tongue, running hands over Dean's taut chest and stomach-

"Want you, Dean, want you so _bad_." And Dean's shoving him away, off the bed and onto the floor where he lands with a thump, looking dazedly up at his brother and Dean's growl hits his ears with a slap, "Sleep it the fuck _off_, man-" and the light clicks off, Dean rolls over and Sam's sitting stupidly on the floor, trying to figure out what the hell just happened and what the fuck he's doing here.

He breathes quiet for a few moments before he huffs his way to the other bed, throwing himself face first across the top of it and passing out instantly, dick hard and unsatisfied.

*

The next day, Dean's boring a hole into him, staring when he doesn't think Sam's looking, studying him, weighing and measuring-

Finally, Sam's had enough, "What?"

And Dean's gaze is penetrating, seeing right down to his soul, "What did you mean when you said you needed it, Sam?"

"Dean-"

"Sam, please. I need to know."

Sam feels the roll in his belly, the quaking that's been with him for days and he just wants to scream with it, won't go the fuck away and he really wants to tell Dean the truth, because this is the first time Dean's _here_, right here, with him and not shuttered away behind his mask-

So he takes in a deep breath of courage, spreading his hands wide apart and lifting his shoulders helplessly, not even sure where to begin, "Dean, I-I fucking _hate_ it that I touched James, that I hurt you and I can't goddamn get past it! And you-there's no way you can make me feel any worse than I already do, man, believe me, I'm the fucking scum of the earth and I know it, Dean, I _know_ it but there's nothing I can freaking _do_ to fix this-

He takes in a shuddering pull of air and pushes out the words, "When-when Pan was hitting me, when I was goading him, it felt like…like I deserved it, deserved the whipping and that if he kept doing it long enough, that I could …I don't know…make it through and get past this."

Dean starts to speak but Sam holds up a hand, "I know it's not gonna be a quick fix, I _know_ that but it _felt_ like if I could pay for this with enough blood and enough pain, then it would be done, I would be done and we'd be…clean again, the two of us."

Sam's voice breaks on the last, "It's like I broke us, dirtied us and that belt would wipe it all away, make us pure again."

Dean narrows his eyes at him, examining him closely.

And Sam gives an awkward shrug, "Yeah, sick and twisted right? Given you shit for at least a month to fucking razz me with, huh? Sam wants to get beaten…"

But Dean stares at him for a moment longer and turns away, and doesn't say a word, not a fucking word.

*

*

Something is moving, shaking near him, he can hear it, it's squeaking, rocking and he comes to slowly, knowing it's not a threat but unable to identify the source-

Sam's hung, seriously, head-pounding hung and his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth and there's a herd of elephants roaring through his brain, kicking and trumpeting against his skull and swirling nausea through him.

He blinks his eyes open in the darkness, lifts his head to scan the perimeter, all secure, except-

The lump in the next bed is moving, beating out a familiar rhythm and he squints his mind around it, knows he can identify it if he just has another minute and when he hears the slip-slap of flesh on flesh, it clinches it for him – someone is jerking himself off and isn't that _nice_-

He shakes his head, frowning, reality slamming into him like a brick wall and he blinks, trying to deny what his eyes are very clearly seeing.

The movement is in the next bed and it's _Dean_ and what the fuck?

He's-he's...jerking himself off?

Why would he be-? Sam's right here, just a foot away and aching to touch Dean again, just waiting for the word and he'll be right there, loving on his brother.

He watches as the blanket covering Dean shakes and trembles, the gasp of breath reaching Sam's ears a second later. The twitching movement goes faster, Dean's panting matching it and he hears the whispered, "Fuck, _fuck_!" and the low groan tells him Dean climaxed, finished and the slow pulls under the covers are for the after shocks.

Sam feels like the world just got ripped right out from under him.

"Dean?" His whisper seems to shout and Dean's eyes find his in the dark, glittering like black diamonds at him in the moon lit room, "Why would you-"

And words fail him, his voice trailing away into silence, the slash of pain through his heart leaves him gasping and when Dean's eyes fall away and he rolls over, turning his back to Sam, something huge and scary rises up inside Sam, isolation, so fucking alone, and he's off the bed in a heart beat, flicking on the light and yanking Dean onto his back-

Angry eyes meet his and he's got both hands on Dean's shoulders, pulling him up off the bed, shaking him violently, "Don't you turn your fucking back on me-"

"Get your goddamn hands off of me, Sam!"

But Sam's too far gone, snapped and jumped into the deep end and he's had _enough_-

"No! You did this to hurt me, to cut me down and now you don't wanna see the damage? Too fucking bad cause you're getting it, whether you want to see or not. You know I didn't cheat on you, _you know it_ but you're using any excuse to pull away from me, to break us and I want to know why! We were so good before, so close and now…Yeah, ok? I wasn't as strong as you and yeah, I fucking jerked off James! I didn't fuck him, I didn't blow him, I didn't kiss-"

Sam trails off when he remembers that he did kiss him but not then – it had been later.

Dean's eyes widen, "You fucking kissed him?" And Dean starts struggling harder against Sam's grip, "You goddamn son of a bitch, let me _go_!"

And Sam does, releasing his brother so suddenly that Dean stares up at him with wary eyes, not sure when the next attack is coming.

Sam's voice is low and dangerous, "Yes, I kissed him - when he propositioned me. I kissed him goodbye, Dean but you know what? You gonna keep accusing me of cheating on you then I don't see any reason why I shouldn't just do the deed, you know? Then at least you can feel all righteous and justified that I'm not worthy of your love cause you know what? You're right. I'm not worthy of it, not at all."

And a tear he didn't even know he had rolled down his cheek and he's turning away, grabbing the motel key, "Found a bar a ways down the road. Sure I can find someone to fuck and then you'll know you were right about me all along. Happy now, Dean? Is this what it takes to make you happy? Don't worry – I won't be back."

Sam starts towards the door and next thing he knows, he's face smashed into the wall, Dean's hot breath in his ear, body a solid mass behind him, "You're not going anywhere, Sam-"

Sam struggles against him "What do you fucking care, huh? You're just looking for a reason to stop this, man, so I'll give you one. You don't want to fix this or try to make it better, you just want to punish me because I was weaker than you-"

Dean's hand is yanking on his belt, unbuckling and unbuttoning his jeans, "Shut the fuck up, Sam, just shut your goddamn mouth right now-"

And Dean's pulling him around, pushing up his shirt, twisting it off and his mouth is crashing onto Sam's, rough and fierce, shoving open Sam's mouth and thrusting in with his tongue, angry and attacking-

Sam pushes against him but Dean's not letting up, just tightens his grip and pushes him wider open, smashing into his teeth hard, fucking into Sam's mouth and he can't get a breath in, tries to pull away but Dean muscles him against the door, holds him there until he's done, taken what he wants from Sam.

When they break, the anger between them is a living thing, snapping and snarling between them and Dean's shoving him face down onto the bed, laying on him with his full weight, hissing into Sam's ear, "You want to fix this? You stay the fuck there and don't move-"

And he's gone, and Sam feels his boots yanked off and thumping to the floor and Dean's fingers are on his jeans, yanking them and his underwear down until he's naked and splayed on the bed and he waits, insides shaking and rolling because he doesn't know what the fuck is happening but-

He _does_ want to fix this, of course he does and so he tries to stay still, do what Dean wants but-

A rustling behind him has him pricking up his ears and a familiar snap cuts through the air and what is that?

The sound comes again and _Fuck!_

Pain slashes across his back and shit, goddamn, Dean's fucking hitting him with a belt, laying it across the welts already there and his breath whooshes out of him, his back arches and he's clenching the blankets in tight fists-

He's up on his knees before he knows it, starting to roll over and get the hell out of here and Dean's on him again, knee to his back, holding him down-

The voice harsh and rasping in his ear, "You _need_ this, Sammy, you told me so-"

"Dean-" Sam's voice cracks like glass, the sob thick in his throat, "You don't even know-"

Dean's voice comes again, huffing into his ear, his lifeline, his love, "I need it, too, Sammy. God help me, I need this, too-"

And Dean's weight is gone from him and he's hanging on by a thread, arms shaking with reaction, the pain in his back biting into him and he takes in a shuddering breath, feels Dean waiting, needing his permission, his approval before he'll finish this.

And bows his head, because Dean's right, he needs this, needs the guilt taken away from him by force because he won't give it up willingly, can't get rid of it on his own-

And Sam closes his eyes and lays back down, hanging onto the blanket for dear life, "_Do_ it."

*

*


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N and WARNINGS:** _This chapter contains a severe whipping with a belt so if you don't like this kind of thing, please don't read. But if you read it, I'd love to hear what you think :D. Thanks for coming along on the ride with me! _  
_

*

*

Sam hears it before he feels it.

Dean's grunt of force, the crack of leather, sharp in his ears, making him jump as it snaps across the stillness of the room-

The cool rush of air on his skin and he tenses in anticipation, gritting his teeth against the pain before it hits, readying himself-

The fire lands, blooming a red line across his spine and Sam hisses at it, head thrown back and teeth bared in a growl, fists clenched and twisting the blanket into crumpled peaks, veins bulging in his forearms as he pauses in space for a second, freeze frame, before collapsing back down onto the bed with a groan.

_Holy fuck, that hurts!_

Another slap breaks the air, this one criss-crossing over the first, biting into Sam's shoulder, and the pause is shorter this time, a blink before the red-hot pain has his breath exploding out through clenched teeth, "Ahhh…"

Dean lands the next two in one roll of his wrist, forward then back, his aim true, the strength behind them slashing heat from Sam's shoulders to his ribs and he moans against the throb, biting his lip fierce enough to draw blood, trying to take it, stoic, silent but he's losing it, the bright cut of pain slicing through his resolve.

_Shit, Dean's re__al__ly laying into him hard!_

Dean hits again, one and another, a flick and roll of the wrist, grunting with effort, the X he lays digging hot across Sam's ass this time and a cry rips from his throat before he can stop it, trailing away to a moan as the fiery cuts burn in deep-

Twice more Dean lashes into him, flick and roll, slash and cross, the stiff leather of the belt unforgiving as it flays his skin, laying stripes of red on tender flesh and Sam arches up with each blow, head tossing, muscles rigidly holding him in place before he cries out softly and falls back to the mattress, gasping for breath and shaking so hard the bed is rocking with it.

_God, can't take it, it's too much-_

The welts are angry shouts now against the smooth tan of back, his whole body is trembling, quaking and rolling, alive with nerve endings screaming at him to stop this, stop this _now_ but Sam grits his teeth against it, he won't, _goddamn it_, can't let it end yet because it's not _enough_, he hasn't paid enough yet-

Dean misses his mark, the next hit wild and the belt crashes across his tender inner thigh, a fiery slash that makes Sam's vision go tunnel and he dimly hears himself scream his brother's name over the roar of blood in his ears, writhing mindlessly at the stark agony, his hands flying back to cover himself against the onslaught.

"Sammy, you want me to stop?" Dean's voice is ragged and old, out of breath, almost begging Sam to say yes.

The voice is low, guttural, doesn't even sound like Sam, "NO!"

And Dean drops the belt, making the decision for him, "No, Sam, that's _enough_-"

Sam whips his head around, glaring fierce, snarling out the words, "You keep fuckin _going_, Dean! Finish it!"

And they lock eyes, Dean ready to argue, to refuse but his will falters, his words trail away at the look of stone determination on Sam's face. With a nod, he bends and picks up the belt.

The air changes, becomes heavy and clenched-jaw tense and they both feel the frantic rush to end this, end this right now and Dean reaches down, knocks Sam's hand away and swings hard, laying another slash across his brother's backside and Sam flinches, skittering away before forcing himself back into position. Dean speeds up his wrist, wielding the belt like a cowboy's lasso, swinging faster and harder, laying fire over Sam's flesh in long, screaming arcs.

_Jesus, burns like fucking hellfire-_

And Sam's pushing himself up onto his knees, giving Dean a better target, laying himself wide open, straining towards the belt, needing the scorch of it like he needs to breathe, hungry for its bite, for its teeth in his skin.

He needs it to wash him clean. God, he wants to be clean again so _bad_-

He's arching, rocking backwards, begging for it with every part of his body and he hears his voice, the harsh growl of a wounded animal, daring Dean, challenging him "Fucking _harder_, you son of a bitch! Come on! Show me! Show me how fucking pissed you are, Dean! How much you hate my fucking guts for what I did to us! Do it! Give it to _me_."

And Dean choking out harsh sobs now, "Sammy, please-"

But he does it, does as Sam asks, giving Sam all the rage, all the seething pain that's boiled in him for days, and he's snarling and swearing, hitting as hard as he can, arm relentless and unforgiving. The belt never falters as it streaks across Sam's skin, turning it an ugly throbbing red and Sam needs more, needs everything Dean can give him-

_Should have been stronger, should have been able to resist James, should've fucking known it wasn't Dean and why the hell didn't he? How could he not known his own brother, for Christ's sake, he knows Dean better than he knows himself and how the fuck did he miss that?_

And he's begging for absolution, redemption and for Dean to just fucking _forgive_ him-

Doesn't realize he's screaming it out loud until Dean's yelling back at him, "Forgive yourself, Sammy, fucking forgive _yourself_."

And the raw agony in his gut is ripped open, spilling out the festering guilt that's rotting Sam away from the inside out and the next crack across his ass shatters him, breaks him and he's hollering, voice harsh and bleeding in the air, crying out his shame, his anguish "So fucking sorry, Dean! Jesus, Didn't mean...didn't mean to-to _touch_ him, just, Christ, man, I'm so goddamn _sorry_…Please, Dean, please-"

Doesn't know why he's begging but he's babbling the words, can't stop until he feels the wrenching in his chest and the lump of guilt disintegrates, releases and he's finally able to take in a fucking breath, pulling in a great whoop of air as the hurt, the blame lets him go and he's free, fucking free of it at last, collapsing into the cheap coverlet, body curled in on itself, sobs racking through him, done in, finished, heavy and exhausted limp on the bed and all Dean's now, barely moving as another two lashes of the belt fell on him.

Dimly he hears the clunk of buckle as the belt hits the floor and the bed sinks under Dean's weight, swaying him slightly but he can't lift his head, so tired, so goddamn _tired_-

And Dean's mouth is on his back, warm and tender, kissing and licking the hot welts, lips feather light on the blistered skin, and his fingers slide from down low, over the round of Sam's calf up the leg, ghosting over the one stripe stinging his inner thigh, causing Sam to moan, the hurt there deep and raw. Dean's hand is cool on his flesh as he lays it soft on his ass, not cupping, not squeezing, just resting on each part before moving on, touching every mark, every ridge of raised flesh.

Hot breath on his face, "Jesus, Sam…"

Dean's hands are everywhere, fingertips caressing his back, soft and gentle, bitter-sweet, bringing hot sparks of pleasure and pain together, swirling through him and Sam shivers against it, muttering small grunts of hurt and Dean moves up to his face, stroking his cheek, smoothing back the sweat-matted hair and thumbing away the tears that are still rolling slow down his face. Dean's whispering his name over and over again, trying to get Sam to come back but Sam's pretty good here, resting in his warm dark, no guilt, no shame, feeling lighter than he has in days and he just needs this for a little while longer.

_Not clean though, not completely. _

Something's still there, just off to the side, a rolling wave of red, seething restlessly, waiting for him to wake up and see it, identify it because it's huge and hurtful, something about Dean...

He frowns against it, doesn't understand but it's coming, coming up fast-

It nudging him, nipping at his conscious thought until finally, Sam gives a sigh and stirs awake, opening up his eyes, staring up into his brother's, sure that Dean'll still be cold and distant but no, there's warmth and love and _home_, shining out of Dean's green eyes, waiting there for _him_.

"Hey." Dean smiles, slides a hand under his face to hold him up, bending in to press kisses on his mouth, chaste, soft kisses full of promise and future and he's urging Sam up, pulling him over so he's laying on Dean's chest, warm arms surrounding him, holding Sam close to his heart.

And it's everything Sam did this for, his for the asking, right here and all is forgiven by the look in Dean's eyes, the feel of his touch and it should be wonderful, perfect, even though his back is on fire and his nose is stuffed from crying because Dean's here with him now and they can be together-

Dean's looking at him with such _love_-

The red wave hits him hard and a cold hand of anger clenches at his heart, filling him with a smoldering rage that slams into him, takes him by surprise, his only thought is that_ it's not fucking fair-_

He's the only one paying here-

First to James and now to Dean, his screaming back and ass a throbbing reminder of the penance Sam's given but Dean...

Dean hasn't done a fucking thing about his own part in this, he's not blameless, not innocent but you wouldn't know it the way Dean's looking at him right now, all smug and satisfied, smiling down at Sam, so freaking sure that everything between them is all better now.

Like he didn't do anything wrong-

And Dean's hand is circling gentle on Sam's hip, a sensual flutter that has Sam's heart trip-hammering in his chest, desire starting to flick through and he almost gives in, almost lets himself be swayed into calm because _Jesus_, every freaking bone in his body wants to curl up in Dean's arms and let himself be loved, let Dean take him away to ecstasy, away from the rage and hurt-

Sam jerks himself back to reality at the last second_, gotta get this __al__l out right the fuck now, _because they'll never be right, never be _done_ until this shit festering in him is spewed out into the open, _he_ can't get past it-

So he pulls in on strength he doesn't know he has, grits his aching jaw down tight and shoves against Dean's chest with both hands, sitting up painfully and pushing away. Dean's arms cling to him, try to pull him back but Sam shakes him off, closes his eyes against the bewildered expression flashing on Dean's face and lets the rage come, swirl through him, the pain that's slicing through his back adding weight to it, fueling the fire in his gut and he's struggling, clamoring up to his knees.

Dean sits up, moving with him, looking at him, eyebrows coming together in a heavy frown, puzzled and unsure, and Sam pulls in a shaky breath, shoulders tense, head down, staring down at his hands where they're clenched into fists on his knees, sitting back on his haunches and trying to hang on, not scream out his fury into Dean's unsuspecting ears.

He opens his mouth, then closes it, trying to pick careful words to make Dean understand how betrayed, how _defeated_ he feels because he doesn't want Dean to get pissed and strike back, with words or fists or both, doesn't want Dean to turn tail and run or worse, close himself off from Sam again and break the shaky footbridge they've just struggled to build.

Doesn't want to wreck everything with harsh truths and shouted blame-

But when Dean reaches out a hand to touch, the words fly out of his head and he feels the thin wire of self-control snap, twanging in his ears and before he knows he's gonna do it, the blood roars through his head, his fist lets loose and he hears the thud of skin on skin, sees Dean's head whip around and when he turns back to Sam, he's holding onto his jaw in confusion and pain, eyes glaring at him in disbelief-

_Well, so much for finding the right words._

Dean opens his mouth, scowling fiercely but Sam plows in again, hook to the other jaw, a satisfying crunch of bone against knuckles and Dean goes down for precious seconds, giving Sam a chance to lumber painfully off the bed and shake the throb from his fist before bending stiffly to gather up his clothes, his back spitting and hissing at the movement-

A hand clamps on his arm, whirls him around and he swings wild but it's too fucking slow to do much damage 'cause he's hurt and sore, and he's snarling at Dean, so fucking pissed he can barely see-

Dean knocks the swing away easy, and suddenly he's _right there_, in Sam's face, crowding him up against the wall with his body, Sam crying out as his flesh bangs the plaster and Dean's hands are on his shoulders, pushing him back and holding him there when he tries to free himself-

"What the _fuck_, Sam? What the fuck?"

And Sam's shoving him away, angry tears smearing his vision, Dean's hot breath on his face and his freaking scent is in Sam's nose, dizzying his brain with it, all sweat and angry fire, and Sam can't get in a breath because Dean's so close, smells so goddamn _good_-

He bites down on his bottom lip hard, forces himself to focus, to fucking concentrate and to spit out the words he needs to say, "You didn't fucking trust me, Dean! All you had to do was that, that one little thing for us, just fucking trust me, man, but you wouldn't...couldn't-"

Dean's eyebrows shoot up, color high on his cheek bones and he's practically yelling at Sam, "What in the _hell_ are you talking about, Sammy?"

"You never believed me when I told you I loved you, Dean! And that's the whole fucking problem right there because if you _had_, you wouldn't have gone to beat up James, you wouldn't have blown into the flute and we wouldn't be here now, you stupid son of a bitch!"

And Sam's not gonna say it, bites his lip to keep it back but if falls out of his mouth anyway, sounding bitchy and whining, just like he knew it would, "And you never even fucking said you were sorry for getting your ass possessed! It was a stupid fucking thing to do, blowing into the damn thing and you know it!"

Sam shakes his head, shoulders slumped, so fucking tired of it all, he can't even look at Dean anymore and he turns away, face to the wall, admitting brokenly to the one thing he can't fix in all this, "If you hadn't blown into it, man-. I mean, shit-!"

And he's hitting the wall with a hard fist, slamming at his frustration, his shame, "How was I supposed to know that wasn't you, Dean? You tell me - how the fuck because, Jesus, he _was_ you, and I swear I couldn't tell the difference, man, so help me, God, I couldn't fucking tell and I'm sorry-"

His body cowers into the wall, trying to get as far away from Dean as he can, because he _did_ end up cheating on his brother after all, just like Dean fucking knew he would and Sam can never forgive himself for that. He's trying to push Dean away, to get space between them but Dean's hands are gripping his arms, spinning him around and landing on the back of his neck with an iron grip. Sam can't move, head held vise-tight and he's yanking at Dean's forearms, trying to shake him loose but Dean's not budging, not loosening at all and Sam starts to fight in earnest, trying to keep his head down even as Dean's forcing his face up, using his freaking strong wrists as leverage-

Dean crowds in close, face banging into Sam's, cheek bones hitting hard because Sam's still fighting him, can't get Dean the fuck _off_ of him-

"No, Sam, NO! You're not going anywhere, goddammit! You're gonna just stay here and fucking listen-"

And Dean's holding his face up but Sam keeps his eyes down, won't look at his asshole brother and Dean's fingers are in his hair now, raking through and clenching painful, holding him in place as Dean rasps into Sam's ear, angry and cracking with the strain, "You're right, Sammy, ok? You're right!"

Sam tries to twist his body away, earning himself a painful tug on his hair as Dean loses patience, giving him a sharp shake, voice a command now and it stills Sam as nothing else could, "Sammy, goddamn it, stop! You couldn't have known, ok? There's no way you could have known it was Pan and not me and I was wrong to lay that shit on you! You hear me, Sammy? I was wrong...in a lot of things-"

And Sam's eyes slide up, meeting Dean's, his lips trembling at Dean's words as he listens, finally hearing what his brother is saying.

"This is all my fucking fault, man, and I'm sorry-" Dean shakes his head, tears springing to his eyes, "I got jealous, ok? And you're right - it was because I didn't believe you but not, not for the reason you think-"

And Dean eyes on Sam's are pleading for understanding, "Sammy, I wasn't ever…worthy, you know? You're so much better, deserve more than…just me and I couldn't understand, hell, still can't, what you want from me, I mean, I've got nothing to give you-"

Sam feels the jerky clench of Dean's hands on him, the fear shaking off of Dean in waves and with it, his own anger slips away, and something sweet and familiar unfurls in his belly, the heat of it rolling inside has him whispering softly, "All I want is you, you stupid jerk! Just you with me, loving me-what's so fucking hard to understand about that?"

Dean shakes his head, one tear sliding free, tracking a path down his face as he mumbles out the words "I couldn't believe that was enough, I mean, how could I be enough for anyone? I'm nothing, nobody-"

Sam's hands go up, cupping the back of his head and pulling him close and they're forehead to forehead, eyes clinging to each other and Sam's scowling down at him, frustrated because Dean thinks so little of himself and he just wants Dean to _get_ it, "You're _everything_, Dean! You're the strongest man I know, you're loyal and decent and good and I-I love you." And Sam gives him a shake, "I love you, goddamn it. So you're just gonna have to fucking deal with it."

Dean's eyes change, grim sadness to cautious hope and then, love, pure and glowing and Sam revels in it, wraps it around him like warm brandy, heating his belly with familiar, with comfort. He stares into Dean, soft eyes studying Dean's face, letting his brother see the depth of his love, the whole heart and soul of it, laid open and bare and he sees Dean's eyes go wide, hears the shell-shock in his voice, just on the edge on raw, "_Jesus_, Sammy-"

And Dean gives a chuckle of disbelief, of wonder "Fucking crazy ass brother is what I've got. I love you, too, ok? Love you so much that I'm scared every day I'm gonna lose you, lose this and that's why-. Damn it...for what it's worth, Sam, I'm really sorry."

Sam huffs out a sigh, "You should be-"

Dean searches his face and leans in slow, giving Sam plenty of time to turn away, to stop him and when Sam stays right there, doesn't flinch, Dean presses his lips onto Sam's, soft as a butterfly's wing, fluttering over and pulling back fast like he's afraid and he bumps his nose up against Sam's, asking permission, "Sammy? Don't give up on me, ok? I'll be better, I promise, just...stay with me? Please?"

And his mouth is back on Sam's, sliding across this time in a sensuous arc, tongue tasting the curve of Sam's lips, the corner of his smile and when he pulls back this time, Sam's lips part, trying to pull in a breath because Dean's gentleness is sparking flicks of desire through him, up his spine and down his legs, making his knees shake and he can't get in a decent breath here-

Dean leans in, mumbles against his lips, "Please, Sam-"

And he's trembling, the heat twisting through his belly, and he feels himself come alive down below, tingling with passion, with need, "God, _yes_…"

Dean slicks his tongue across Sam's lower lip, his hands starting to move, over Sam's shoulder's and down, curving over the tense biceps and sliding to the ribs, fingers tapping in a staccato rhythm and he's whispering his hot breath over Sam's mouth, "Need you, need to touch you, taste you...missed you-"

And when Dean covers his mouth again, more insistent, lips rubbing hungrily across, tongue flicking out, asking for access, Sam opens up eagerly, meets him right there, moaning out a welcome because it's been so fucking _long_-

Dean crowds in, spreads Sam's mouth wide and pushes in deep, diving down, and Sam's swooning at the taste, so familiar, so _Dean_ and the flickers of heat burn up from his loins, shaking his legs and fanning across his belly in hot tendrils and he clings to Dean's shoulders tight, sure his knees are gonna give out and he's gonna drop on his ass to the floor because the lips on his are making him _sizzle_-

They break apart, gasping with the steamy lust they've got rising in each other and Sam falls back against the wall, equilibrium shot to hell and hissing in pain at the contact against his raw back. He stares into Dean's eyes, the flicker of agony disappearing, overcome with passion, with want for his brother and Dean's all he knows, all he can see because the look Dean's giving him is pure fucking fire, searing into him, scorching his insides and _damn_-

Dean's mouth is right there, lips hot as lava, kissing the breath out of him and all Sam can do is hang on, head spinning with the hot arousal stirring in him, and Dean's tongue, sliding around his own, taking him, owning him and Sam opens up more, groaning into the hot mouth on his, letting Dean take control-

Dean pulls away and Sam feels the tug in his hair, pulling back his head and he lets his head fall, giving his neck and Dean licks a hot trail down over his throat, pausing at the base to press wet kisses into the vein pulsing there, Sam's heart pounding under Dean's lips and Dean moans low, voice muttering words Sam can barely make out, "Missed you, God, missed this…your fucking _taste_, Sam…"

And Dean's other hand is running down his skin, and it's tingling everywhere he touches, making his muscles tremble, for fuck's sake, and it's so bad he's quaking with it, nearly jumping out of his skin when Dean brushes over a nipple, the spark of electricity zinging through his veins.

"Fuck, Dean!" and he can't catch his breath, the passion flaring up from his cock, sudden and swift and he's had enough waiting, enough goddamn time wasted and he's not waiting any longer, can't take it, needs to have Dean inside him now, right now and fuck if Dean's not ready, Sam's desperate and hungry and Dean's just gonna have to deal-

With a growl, Sam grabs Dean's shoulders and pulls him up, kisses him hard, back-walks him towards the bed as he shoves his tongue into Dean's sweet mouth and when Dean falls onto the bed, lifting an eyebrow in surprise at Sam's impatience, a smile playing on his lips, Sam is crawling up, over the hard swell of Dean's cock and straddling, the stiff flesh laying hot against Sam's naked ass.

"Need you, need you now-" And Sam's wheezing out the words, reaching behind to grab Dean's dick and press it in between his ass cheeks, moving up and down slow, squirming his hips sensuously to rock against the hardness.

"I'll-" Dean's gasping at the feel of Sam's hand, Sam's ass and the movement of soft flesh against his hard length, "_Jesus_, Sam, slow the fuck down or I'm gonna go off before I even get inside you."

And Dean's hands are on his hips, "Let me, let me get on top…wanna touch you, kiss you-"

"Can't, man, my back…fucking fire, can't lay on it, gotta be on top-"

And Dean scoots up on the bed, Sam moving with him and Dean's up on an elbow, catching Sam behind the head and pulling him down for a kiss. Sam's hands land on the headboard above him for balance and he's nipping and sucking at Dean's lips, pushing them apart and thrusting in his tongue deep. He meets Dean's halfway and they tangle and dance, his ass moving up and down against Dean's shaft behind him.

"God, Sammy-" And Dean's hands move gently, circling Sam's ribs and down to his backside, cupping the cheeks with a firm hand, pulling back to watch Sam's face, letting go as soon as he sees the grimace of pain, and Dean works open Sam's ass carefully, spreading the cheeks wider and sliding his cock inside, along the length of crack, pushing his hips up and down and gasping at the feel of it-

Dean brings up a hand to Sam's mouth and Sam opens, sucks in his fingers, wetting them good and Dean reaches back around, eases between the silky cheeks and finds the puckered hole, quivering under his fingers. He circles around and around, pressing in gently before working in a fingertip, stretching and pulling and finally, thrusting deep, in and out and Sam moans in pleasure, pushing his ass back onto Dean's hand.

When he's moving in easy, Dean slides in another finger, opening Sam up with deep plunges, and Sam's bucking down against him, grinding his ass down as Dean thrusts up, breath catching in Sam's chest as he moves, rasping in the air, "God, Dean, feels so _good_-"

"You ready for me, Sammy?" Dean's voice is a hoarse whisper, lip caught between teeth as he watches Sam fucking himself on his fingers, eyes full of heat at the pleasure on Sam's face-

"God, yes, Dean, please-" Sam shakes back his bangs, letting Dean see him, see his enjoyment at the feel of his brother's hands on him-

Dean slides out his fingers and his hands go to Sam's hips, raising him slightly and Sam reaches around, taking hold of Dean's dick and guiding it in-

He's never been in this position before and it's been so long since Dean's been inside him that he's small, tight and shit, the fucking head of Dean's cock is _huge_, rock hard and so freaking hot, it's burning him-

He tries squirming around on it, feeling impaled, because his muscles aren't giving, they're holding fast and he's trying to relax but Jesus, it fucking burns like fire, and he's stretched wide open, arms back up clinging to the bed rail over Dean's head, shaking with effort-

"Fuck, Dean, hurts, man-" And Dean reaches up, hands landing on Sam's hips with a grip of iron and gives a push down, thrusting up at the same time and driving himself deep into Sam's ass-

And Sam teeters for a second, lost in the pain and burn in his backside, muscles stiff and rigid and he's not breathing, not moving, eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared back in a grimace-

Dean pulls out and shoves up again, going deeper and the breath whooshes out of Sam's lungs, one hand slaps onto Dean's chest and he's gasping, harsh grunts of pain working out of his throat, "Jesus, Dean, holy fuck! Slow…uhhhh, slow down, for Christ's sake, man, let me fucking breathe-"

Dean's huffing into the space between them, "Sorry, Sam, got a little carried away there…Shit, man, you're so fucking tight, you're cutting off the circulation…come on, Sammy…relax…"

And Dean's hands slide up Sam's chest, circling his nipples gently, playing and flicking at them, rubbing his hands over Sam's ribs and arms and Sam feels himself loosen, bones and muscles slackening and resting and he slides down onto Dean's dick more from gravity. Dean pulls back and pushes up again, not thrusting as hard but keeping it steady, driving a constant pressure, ebbing back and pressing in again, small pokes, inching his way inside. With a sigh, Sam relaxes onto him, the restraining hand on Dean's chest curling and rubbing now, starting to caress as the pain lessens and passion moves on in. Dean gives one more jab up and he's buried deep, Sam's ass resting on his thighs, and Sam's moaning on top of him, panting down and locking his eyes onto Dean's, losing himself in the deep green pools staring back up at him.

Dean takes Sam's hand off his chest and brings it to his lips, kissing softly, letting his tongue slide around the fingertips, sucking each into his mouth in turn as Sam watches longingly. With a smooth move of hips, Dean backs up and bucks in, easy slide and Sam catches his breath as Dean hits that sweet spot inside, jolts of pleasure flicking over Sam's spine, making him bounce on Dean's lap.

Dean's hands go back to Sam's hips, "Goddamn, Sammy…keep moving like that and it's gonna be a short one, man-"

"Dean, you're in so deep, it's like I can feel you through my whole body-" Sam breathes down at him, gasping as Dean pulls at his hips, reversing his own at the same time and then driving forward, letting Sam fall, leaving them both gasping in delight and Dean gets them in a rhythm, buck and pull, out and in-

"God, feels so good, Sam…missed you…missed this…" And Dean stretches up, trying to reach him, "Need your fucking mouth, Sammy-"

And Sam leans down, covering Dean's lips with his own, thrusting in with his tongue and getting grunts of pleasure out of Dean as he matches the slide of his tongue to Dean's cock shoving into him and he grinds his ass down onto the hard length inside of him, feeling Dean's legs jerk and rock under his ass, the thighs under his cheeks trembling as Dean climbs higher and higher towards orgasm.

Sam reaches down to take hold of his own dick, to get himself off and Dean breaks off the kiss, smacking his hand away.

"Dean, what the-" Sam bitches at him, frustrated.

"Uh uh, Sammy, I got plans for that-" And he bucks up into Sam's ass again, harder now, faster, each graze over Sam's prostate has him crying out, fingers itching to jerk himself off and he's almost begging, hell, he is begging, "Christ, Dean, please-"

Two more deep thrusts into his ass and he feels the throb of muscle, the jerk of Dean's dick inside him and then the hot come filling him up and Dean keeps shoving, emptying himself into Sam's ass until he's spent, done and falling back onto the bed, gasping out his breath and rocking through the tingling aftermath.

He barely lets himself rest before he's slipping his dick out, pulling up on Sam's hips and shaking his head at his brother's whimper of loss as he leaves the warm snugness and starts to scoot down, urging Sam to come forward.

Sam knee-walks his way up the bed until he's resting on Dean's chest and Dean stares up at him in steamy lust, "Want to taste you, Sammy, wanna drink you down-"

And he fists hard around Sam's shaft, dragging up and down, Sam growing and lengthening in his grasp and Dean's craning up his neck, flicking out his tongue to circle around the swollen head of Sam's dick, making Sam gasp and buck forward.

He licks down Sam's length and back up, tickling along the sensitive underside of Sam's cock before working into the slit on top, small pokes with the tip of his tongue and circling again, swirling and dancing over the head and down, kissing his way back up, nipping and biting on the tender skin. Sam's head is thrown back in ecstasy, his throat working over his Adam's apple, hums and groans of bliss racking through his chest.

Dean takes him in, just the tip, sucking wild and Sam falls forward, hand slapping down on the mattress next to his head, back hunched over, his other hand fierce, clenched white, on the headboard.

"God, Dean, holy shit, your fucking _mouth_-"

And it's heaven in there, all hot and wet, Dean's tongue lapping over him and Sam's eyes pop open, glue onto those fucking lips working over his skin, flick to green eyes burning with lust, and he's panting like a freaking dog, can't get a decent breath in because Dean's sucking his fucking lungs out of his chest through his _dick_-

His hips move with a mind of their own, working as a team with Dean's mouth, and Sam's out of the picture, at their mercy, his mind swooning and careening around like a roller coaster, sweeping up high and then crashing down at mock ten and he's pumping helplessly, Dean's tongue leading the dance, taking care of Sammy yet again-

And when Dean swallows him down, hands sliding around to clench on Sam's ass cheeks, fingers burning into his skin, he's tugging Sam forward, making him thrust, urging him on until Sam's lost control, blindly climbing up the side of the mountain, skittering fast, reaching the top in record time.

His vision clouds, closes down and he's shoving into Dean's eager mouth, down that open throat that surrounds him with slippery goodness, so hot, so freaking wide for him, asking for everything Sam can give and he's reached it, snow covered peaks and he's rocking in, jerking out and Dean's fingers, Christ, shoving into him from behind and rolling around, crooking in and raking over that fucking _place_-

He feels it break, shatter and he's throbbing, exploding, without warning and Dean moans low in his throat, like he's tasting the best thing in the world and Sam dimly hears, the roar of blood in his ears making it far away, muffled. The tremors rack through him with each spurt and Dean keeps sucking, keeps drinking and Jesus, will he ever stop because his body is spasming, twitching with every pull of Dean's mouth and he collapses to the side, head hanging on his arm still attached to the headboard, other palm curled loose around his brother's cheek.

"Dean, God, Dean." Is all Sam can manage, shaking like he's palsied, every muscle, every nerve spent and exhausted because he's never come that hard in his fucking life-

Dean's tongue is still moving, licking, cleaning him and sending errant twitches through Sam's body with each lap, humming in his throat at the taste and finally, pressing a kiss into the head, sliding a lick into the slit to make sure he didn't miss a drop and Sam's hips buck again futilely, tiredly. Dean runs hands down Sam's thighs and he can feel Dean's gaze on him, watching him as he recovers and he gives a half smile, the hand on Dean's face caressing heavy because he can barely lift his arm. He manages to move off his brother's chest and slide down next to him on the bed, closing his eyes and laying his head on Dean's shoulder, letting himself rest.

Dean pulls Sam's arm over his chest and hugs it to him, reaching up a hand to caress Sam's face with a thumb, almost purring with satisfaction.

"You taste so goddamn good, Sam, it's freaking addicting, man, I can't get enough of it-"

Sam gives a big sigh, breathing finally calming down and he's able to speak, even though his limbs are still boneless jelly, "Missed you, man…missed you so fucking much-"

His hand is brought up to Dean's mouth, palm kissed with hot lips and Dean husks out, "Sammy-I love you so much."

And Sam pulls his hand away, puts it on Dean's heart, "You just gotta stop listening to your freaking head, asshole and listen to this. Because this right here, what we got between us, is everything, the only thing that matters, the only thing that's right and you can tell yourself all goddamn day that you're not worthy, that you're useless and everything's your fucking fault but, bottom line, Dean? I love you, always have and always will and this? This is all I ever want from you. Just…love me back, man. Do that and we can get through anything."

Dean covers Sam's hand with his own, "I might still get stupid sometimes but I'll try, ok? I'll try."

Sam nuzzles into Dean's neck, lips kissing along the sweet skin, saying serenely, "Stupid is as stupid does."

"Oh, you did not just Forrest Gump me! What a lame line that was, I mean, does anyone know what the fuck that even meant? Who wrote that shit anyway-"

And Sam smiles against Dean's neck, his brother's voice washing over him as he settles down against Dean's chest, curling into him and knowing that he's right where he belongs, for now and for ever.

*

*

~ the end~


End file.
